I choke off life, I ache a violin, I
was twelve skating to church flame. what was it, so damn thick, it gets silly—the
fire in the spirit, the heart in the fields, the magic in cosmos? at me like
her business, annoyed like it hurt, simultaneous pain-drill—riding six hours,
pausing to urinate, eat, and talk power; lefty homy, a turn for darkness, homy,
like damn it hurts, he died, homy.
I choke off life, I string guitars,
at five playing piano—the ghost bleeding senses, those eyes screaming for
affection, I lost it—begging, pleading, on abstracts strung out. like weights
in souls, like craving no remorse, like touching feeling cursed; athirst
inside, hungry in brains, like genetics they can’t find. another apology, a
quicker wit, pure intuition. the mother hoped for, the mother as actual, the
feline up the alley; those canine fathers, my fangs leaking oils, on a loan-er,
a little tender, like a bad ass miracle—never seen it, too damn dangerous, my
brains in hells.
a broken handshake, a homily for
pain, at chorus blank in a coma. moving music mental with dirt, at whispers too
high to discern. find me laughing, watching, I can see it a mile away; messing
with a plain Jane, listening to hopes, wondering how people think that way?
