the
corners are crowded next to the curd sits a filthy crockpot, a tear further, a blender
on the tracks, been a long time the pendulum. soul knows soul, a little
different to see it, as it melts, chances, looking fluidity. at a door he
entered, I saw a Glock, I heard words, I hit an exit.
I sport a mask. it
seems funny. years back, it wouldn’t be accepted. I passed shorty. I couldn’t
look. it was detrimental.
lifting more. put
it together more. so hectic how we judge our bodies, how we treat our skulls.
I picture a group,
stressing newness, with heaven at it.
I listened to
intonation, it seemed separated from the person, I guess he heard it too; he
dipped, with a palm, hit, partner stumbled, fell backwards, flipped upon a
moving car.
see it as it lives, keeping mouth to
self, no one wants to hear it, plus, it’s a habit.
expensive handshakes. flimsy
receptions. a soul might see things clearly.
false moves.
partner psychotic. another a psychopath.
his language all
in his body, moving like that, the car flipped!
he crawled out. Love
saw it. he gave $300 to lay it out.
a pocket Bible, a pill, a backpack with
a beer.
I can hear his
soul I can see her soul. it makes a soul familiar.
I was loving
souls, treated by blackness, at another bench press.
replaced his
brain, became a Muslim, praying, found, giving it back—many wouldn’t listen.
I zoned-out, it
was midnight, the building was seventy souls. liquor wafting souls scudding
momma flitting, framed, out-cursed—bled his mind, bled his soul, I couldn’t
never fathom.
