I give it more,
always resurrected, pure neatness, pure blackness.
court cities,
comfort curt enough, like country fires; like flies at gnats at gunning like it
hurts—mashing out, blasting in-brains, like never room for change. no one
listens, they can’t feel it, it never went depth enough. a fever losing its
life, a dear friend, so much anguish between skin textures; like power in us,
to take a blow, too many had to die; more frankness, more curtness, so blessed
to have survived;
a name while here,
a dear martyr, like political courage.
more to knowledge,
loving some creature, like hell on his conscience. freedom to watch, liberty to
hear eyes, while one is cheap, tawdry, debating actions.
we might do as selected,
repercussions are ours, while many can’t breathe.
I was sick, laced
with flames, a flicker of failure. so close to nothingness so closer to
nothing, like fucked, gunning, leaping fences. a damn problem, the way of life,
rare to believe unsighted. eating arsenal, rolling gunpowder, puffing a military—a
militia in us, a cave in gods, like ruined, a riot, riding into bullets.
much in officials,
gritting his jaw, watching, like meant to suffer disgust and croak.
dear officers, how
in hell to protect with carefree indifference?
I see a woman. I see
a trick box. I see a friend—as noticing, a gift blasted off wrongness.
it’s my fault,
what in bleaching, like the house was repainted, like I can’t see, like new
behaviors just pop up. I must say it, I do apologize, many kill their imagery—linked
in damages, another new gesture, many with opportunity.
so lit so gifted
so much fresh air—showing emotion, emotion free, some problem killing where
they designed it to drill.
