keep me company, I spas out, I delete my
agenda—insides screaming, close to excellence, bleeding abjection. I thought it
wild, as reaching a warlord, we spoke in morse code. summit splendor attacking
my angst at liberties to disregard fashion. so stippled so divided it gets too free.
I do understand like men sinking like a brain becomes a spigot—leaking into traffic,
something extraterrestrial, where it hurts, she’s breathless. an unbolted
picture, carrying a thousand eyes, mother was allergic to logicians. keep me
company, keep analyzing, I’m not that unique. nonsense down, pleasures up, what
would it take to keep company? a formed fantast, a formless mind-king, at desperation
to inhale top skies. such inmost art, those days just sitting, never realizing
as beauty was passing. no return. no more justice. you’ve become fair mystery.
much a substitute.
much rain made pluvial. a flood in every crevice. to think you guileless, to
think you fortunate, to believe with you, life might be aesthetic—as a gift
churning succession, abused but proud. a sip of sugarwater, eating rice
pudding, reigning inside so close to dear respect—an opaque wish, a kernel in veins,
so privy by now.
keep
me company, debating barbwire, a mudpack on invisibility—as a tangible progeny
or broken by a curse much rapid poltergeists—as scudding into exospheres
raiding interior guts too close to pretend, I can’t see. I wrote for prestige I
learned to write for freedom or pure identity alongside a vicarious adrenaline.
last on a roadmap, forgotten for a decade, while many kissing heaven—to escape
self-deception. I would love a conversation, something eating at me, as I carry
mind-cargo. existence stutters. never as sincere. like ghosts, we swoop passed
eternity.
