I’m moving a wheel
inside a canon a snug piece of tomorrow. so gutted feeling like shit so round
in a dungeon. too amazed by us so close to us, been missing for twenty years.
mental magazines ninefold wounds if a hearing in its sincerity. like ants
scatter like bobcats chasing like industry misery. so ownsome, alone a sewer,
sipping disgrace. if more pictures we seem pictureless if more deaths we feel
like existence if absurd we try harder. pushing gravel eating bugs like locusts
in a damn desert. amazed how we believe amazed how we hate science amazed how I’ve
survived. more shade more interior or more exhaustion. the pendulum has made
existence so ancient like an old ass shoebill. so close to it or removed by it
such ivory in our ghettoes.
by physic penance
by repentance to humans by graves in brains sifting wheat. to polish ambition
as one enlove so rare what we feel. a bashful puppy a raw ass kitten at furniture
like hyenas. a spot in perception a grain of concern at projects seeming to
distress us. amused by anguish like a damn maniac, but listen closely, after
each trial something beautiful takes place. I never met her, like a fool to
greet her, such angels in my memories.
certain fire as
awakened early after nights turned into blueness. like jazz at clubs like peace
at hearts so confused by the way it works. something a mystery something
surreal while I misuse our skies – shooting flames at gas inside such roaring
in our atmospheres.
