i poisoned myself and gushed
lifeliquids all the livelong twilight.
only a little was saline.
my writing plugged.
i kept moving.
i brought in a green creature
and unpeeled an orange fetus.
two am by nature scavenging
in the pestilence bowls
after they've been poured over
the acned earth. i'm staring.
the room includes my arm.
the cat anchor.
the flat everything else.
the final warning.
is my face as runnelled as yours is?
let me see?
did she know that she took your thunder out?
where is your head
and are you breathing
or have you begun to
live off of the speed to create
by dumping the boosters
by flotsamming the sadness.
a surface of voice is glazing my face
making mud in my throat
bake into bricks.
love tax
friends tax
taxing situations.
i can still prevail
i can still say yes and be a comfort
because i happen to have love
people who find the mud
baked everywhere over even
minor interactions of commerce
are my people from where i'm.
my skittering
has slammed me on
pinball bumpers to beat me
into 2 million points + an extra ball
on the terminator 2 table
in the red room.
and when someone wants to know
"can the back of the room hear?"
i will walk to it and feel so tenseless.
now my brothers are several.
i slept between them,
a weird nougat surrounded by
something close enough
stereoed together.
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