 |
remote control juice: cold lightbulbs | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 ... i'm inhaling something that feels like cold water brought to boil and set to sea at steams length, i'm dreaming something that looks like shadowboxes on horizon lines, put your hand inside and see what you can feel i say, does it cut does it tear, or wrap around and hold down like so many things. sugar. bitters. water for tears. sometimes chocolate melts and i can go tip to tongue in the blink of an eye, sometimes the past comes back and repeats after rinsing, after pretense, after the guard has all gone home for a bit. and i think that is less than what it calls for and more than what it is worth when walk aways won't be left alone and seasalt comes in by the truckload. trip down tick off and waste away to block block banter ignore, release something or hold tight to nothing, tis all in the way the wind blows and the way the mind owes, or thinks it does when words are caught up and turned around and betrayls are had, tis too much for my head when i am doing my best to breath in lightly and watch my belly button disappear with each day of scarification, still i can feel the rain in the air, it wants to land, it wishes to make sweet purchase of my skin and i've left my umbrella in the care of the bunny i speak to, to show to, the one i wish to bring things to, like stones, so i must consent... and hope that this time, everything is what it seems, and we don't get lost in these pipe dreams.... someone hold out, we've got hours and counting change like channels and skip to my [lu] my dahrlin snap. this spin off's gone empty. 
|
›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #3 ›bio: ~ed ›perma-link ›7/29/2005 ›17:14 ›archives ›first post ›that week Previous Posts
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
