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(two)
what is this ghastly premonition of omega?
(an invitation for you to unfold)
these are my ashes,
and hopefully some of yours.
on an anatomic scale, i would figure your ghost is an abhorrent bronze.
kings and queens speak only of oracles and picked apart what-nots.
they shaved apart the insides of my lungs only to recover innumerable curls and wisps of manuscript.
so, is there an appropriate taste for the pickled heart?
a beautifully chapped undergarment to suit a set of teeth resembling slums. harpooned straight in the fucking swamp portion of my snake ridden heart.
crock-pot icarus with synthesized library bouillon. we’ll use his feathers to make a scarf.
proton bomb extract in the form of a kiss, but you felt like antarctica and reeked of demons.
i myself am composed of hocus pocus and buckets full of mirkish brown water.
but you too, are full of wind.
i am convinced that if i dissected your palms,
it would be chock-full of detailed maps leading to your derailed heart.
all i wanted a kiss,
not some muscular twitch!
your hands were carelessly wet, holding a heart of glass.
eyes swollen with cataplexy,
and i was apt to break.
so i concluded that you are rhythmically why
the night gorges moon.
ingredients:
- first, there is the rotting stench of a liar, with red hands and all.
- then, the fingerpointer who is secretly mad at her own misfortune.
- a masochist in love with pruning a past strewn aloft rickety posts.
- a dark prince, who fucks with beautiful posture.
- and finally, a fool who only adores the part of herself she shares to people.
a beautiful flower is just as attractive upturned, roots awash crumbs of soil- earthworm muddle,
stuck in stealth and reaching only to entangle.
so what do you do when even the wind carries a lisp,
and your lover kisses you with mouthfuls of plankton.
my own most shallow blue,
my deepest reds:
left me yellow.
spun a halo of cocoons, made valium soup, propagating absorbance in a bathtub of absence.
i urge you to migrate toward a truer sickness. a frigid cold restlessness, unmeticulous of a finer grain.
regress young buck,
i am error.
words
