but the vision sustained
now Fire & inverted converse
cracks sanded over with practice
scan victimless vices
scan scattered screams
finally still. Converges
and I remember ago
unread paternal gaze
the middle ages wash across the sky,
swelling black hopelessly beneath
the swilling gray clouds
Drawing in the dying star
and how effective
the big & the bright
the straight lines irrelevant
& poor spelling
You must answer to the calm silence
the name your famous mother
pulled from the sand.
Adolescent lovers all-over envelope
folded & bound and mailed & failed & waiting
for the sky
on its own terms.
>Ebullient Hymn sung backwards
sit beside me, my instinct boils
What unjust pretense aroused
What right given to man
not afforded to Hymn?
Spontaneous beauty filling
whatever holds It
wraps the form of any body.
No right was granted
& no right shall be assumed.
>I wanted Vicious
but arrived before Savage
found it more appropriate
is that a problem? the choice
bisects the purpose’s reason
I’m slicing off bits of my fingers
offering them up in their palms
I’m eating dried bits of my fingers
i have no ambition, it’s disgusting.
I want to sit down at a table and instantly excel at something.
i seem destined to be an absolute failure.
i miss the easy life: round meals with meats and vegetables prepared by my mother: i never had to pay. sulking in my room when things didn’t go my way. going out on the weekends for x and y and returning for a rent free soft bed.
i want to blame everyone for my problems.
but it’s me. it’s me. it’s me. it’s me!!!! I get it. I need a do over!
my childhood was a failure. i partied and thought a lot about how to have fun, never how i would get ahead in the future. now it’s now and i’m done. I’m in limbo, nowhere. Utopia. What a fucking disaster. MoveOn.fuck
>the string — taught, fragile — & wrapped
fingers. Clocks lose harmony, rolling clouds
dampen the night sky,
choke out contrast,
this delicate tie may be the only universal
binding, no love
a simple existing
the delicate timing of a knot’s design &
binding our fear —
The ascending sky, black scraping out along the wide white shapes,
water-pigment floating &
We do not panic in the loss of our independence
Mimic beauty, our bodies riding side-by-side
Jagged and flat on the night
& cut into there
Look now! It’s what
you expected not: All Breath
and Structure. Bound in dissimilarities
sickness. I’ve turn away
Scars what i reveal
at the site of this inspection
not yet healed
I’ve found myself, cursed,
our tired pursuit
bowed in deference
addresses the devastation
affections drip from the opened body
a perfect meter
in violence & transit
a Storm for the Stars
across your lips
no one here
implying no one
to reaffirm life,
to vandalize our truth,
no gilded angel
at the gates of dawn.
>king-sized bed, question of comfort,
that kind of thing is no concern
lists are metaphors for real conversation
non-random variables conjured in presence
curiosity, hopeful connections / expectation
bent for sound, unreal inside a crowd’s eye
never meant for the smash of purpose
>footsteps, at. my. back.
into the hallway
, onto convenience
tip plucking keys
warm buzz wait below
i follow, head first.