Starry night

Nothing 

I want nothing inside me

But thoughts

Passing through 

At the speed of light

While they slept

Lacking any pressing appointments

--Maybe a sun to explode 

Maybe a system to reset 

One of these trillenias--

And Having set down the curses

Of creation

On some distant planet

They must have left it all

To rest the fall

And winter 

Away

What surprises when they rise

And find their monsters and their men

And find the pride of their dreams

Come to life in the dreams of ant-worth wanderers

These magnifisenses may not be

 the trees and mountains of their reverie

But lacking any pressing portraits

They are yet made

And the world is yet made

While they slept the fall

And winter

Away

Straight load

Thank you for the train

Though it hauls nothing but naked stems

And the trails of human wanderings

And the scent of stripped bark

The rail cleans crisp

And the lumbering loads move on

The trail burns cold

Orange, like the blood

Of a little city at night

Though I can't condone 

The creature contempt to kill for comfort

I Thank you for the trails

In recollection of when it all ends

The late space 

Begins to permeate

So now to go out

The sidewalk ended a long time ago

Do you know a man?

Well, no. I've never even heard of it

Never heard of it?

Well, no. What are you getting at?

Sorry. Just asking. 

The sidewalk broke but we still know

The past tenses 

Beg and plead 

Like bones of dogs 

Who were nothing but happy

To be alive

The past tenses

Into a knot 

That doesn't bleed

Dried husk And fried 

Fraying into the breeze

We still know the way 

It past and says 

Good morning sir, beautiful dog

What dog? 

Your corgi, sir.

What morning?

That's the dawning 

and then sadly

Lights go out 

Not the inner lights, though

They must be on emergency power

Every particle knows its way

The past plays 

And for days 

You can hear it

Some have touched 

Some have feared it 

The past plays 

Pantomimed

They shrined, shrived, divined

Beautifully

And without realism

Particulate poised to plummet 

And in the emergency hour 

And in the moment before,

You never knew there was time between destruction and death

And you never knew that time 

Was already gone

You look

Over the sea of black 

But you cannot help looking back

To be a plural

It's cold in bed without cute girl

It's a colder thought in plural 

I respect a human 

Walking alone

Like the turtle walks

While yet at home

But I fear the lonely 

and I fear their ploys

Or else out of me I'll be 

Cute boys

And them only cute girls

Tentacled

I am born of earth 

And the swill of the skies

As they take their fill of flowing 

From the stationary things

Passing by

I would 

That I had a claw

Just one 

With which to pry the break of the waves

And ascend to sunlight

But the depths decide

And the depths reside

In each of us

Within as without

Snakes

Look at here 

And what a way we are:

Interlocking scales

Interwoven tissues

Plied into arrangement 

Of the preening king and queen

And at what a way we dive

Splitting seconds

Slashing instant

Breaching the fore

To foray feeling from our mouths

To deliver venom like treason

Of the self 

Of anything else but the other

And at what a ways we stab us senseless 

Despite a heinous crowd of onlookers

And good-lookers 

And thieves and witches and wives

And wonderers

And at what a way we take

Each other

Blue bowl

If you could imagine it
I'm sitting at the bottom of this bowl
A firm place to sit
Of a seminal blue
The form of blue
Leaking
Up the walls of the bowl

I took a look once
To see where bleeding color
Disseminated
To the rim of my bowl
A cloudy white, forsaking its mother blue meaning
There's a plate directly above me
A confusing dance of browns and greens and watery blues

I considered once
If you could imagine it
The possibility of living
On a sphere in the sky

Circus

I'm at once ready to say a million things that aren't mine, but nothing gets out. Impractical as I know it is, I gape at you for a good minute. Too long for a pause of casual significance. I can feel the close of a meaningful pause into a barren area of elapsed time. A horizon of sensation finally trickles in after the third minute, reaping a letdown that perhaps plays into the mood. Plays into the mood. I look up and there's a glint of fervor at your chest, and the yellow torchlight dresses you in plaintive glow. Coalescing in your cheeks your forehead, and the direct reflections of your skin, you are a skeleton. My eye has stripped you, or call it my eye stripped, but here we seem to be: naked, but for bones that do not indicate human enigma. Thrum to my chest and behind my eyes something lapses into an instant of sleep, dreaming a shotgun. I've dosed off. The next thrum charters screams into my inner passageways, and eyes burst open:

Elephant of hair and leather and ancient tusks, eyes like earrings, accessories to massive guile; indistinct man caped to indicate the grandiose, pleads attention like it plagues him, dread neuroses, imagined and otherwise frame his context to me; resting trappings of trades long played out. This is here. It for that moment laid alone in its intention of diversion. Now it is merely in front of me like the sloping hillock of fleshes an bones glowing yellow for torches. 

Down and back

One day I'll know how to pour out a river

And strain fro it the small creatires lurking

They will feed myself an others

The bounty of a mineral substrate

Their bodies will come apart

Chitin, sinew, a mess of nerves

And further these structures descend

To the isolates of calciums and carbon strings

But I'll fear this moment

Oh, why not a bone

A fish 

A river

The whole river

The wind

Pentip

Not one thing worth its salt

Other than perhaps the tip of the pen

And how it means at ink's spark

A set of selfish questions 1

Which eyes could I bear 

If I could bear to choose

Better those that take this ride the furthest fastest

But the branches of this tree 

Crowd the future paths from sight

Questions mounting 

Am I doing this right?

Why make a man an anemic inner eye

But then why make a man

Without eyes at all

And has been done 

And they didn't know either

History lies in the smack of action

Poised on the lips of loved ones

Where people never change 

And they are always present

As long as you can still talk to them 

Beginnings

Good morning, World!

Silence replies

A whisper of confusion 

Shh!

And still

They are letting me pretend 

The beginning of times

So I can name everything 

All over again

Turning

Once more I light my feet on solid ground

Everything here looks so different to me

I listen close to hear the earth turning

Curve of the song

Curvature of a singing blade

Bade me save the spirit at my sternum

And all of this the split second purge

Before I took the surgeon's plunge

Thrusted hands through busted bands

A mess of sinew and sorely circulating hearts

I raise the carnage 

Ripping out gemstones 

Laughing at the sorts of pains 

That force a full restart

Use to startle me apart

I drip into the curvature 

Of a singing blade

Little painted box

Fumbling through confessions

Scripted on paper slips

The box fits in the palm of my hand

But is comparably more honest

To think that three hours ago

These papers did not exist

It would have been shouts 

And slamming of mouths and fists

All it took was reaching 

To the back of an abandoned shelf

Why do I even keep so many things?

To remind me of my humanity?

To remind me of what this all was?

What am I supposed to do with memory?

Why would you want to remember?

Why would you even try?

The items scattered in my room

Fall off the face of feeling 

I am awed by the space I preside 

Eyeing walls and floors and chairs

I see the maze of subtle humbled

By the planes and angles

The coarse of stepping stairs

Capping the crisp cardboard top

Painted in your own wist 

The box is put back on the shelf 

Leaving just me

emptying and dishonest

Some summer left over

it was summer on the tongue

in the lagotto of evening strollers by

and how it played into the tree's voices

though the leaves rustled on the ground

the crispness called for coats

and the sun shone low

very low

as if it meant to slice the top off our sky

and let the cosmos in

it already seemed a bit thin up there

from the vantage of a park bench 

in october

Untitled

She smoked fire

Like a troubled soul 

But less tired

She blew intrepid circles 

Around my eyes

And traced my navel 

To my cranium

As if she could click the tumblers

As if she could align the chord

The nerve of her audacity

Only followed by sort of success

That gives threat to the sword

And means to the spear

She hadn't even come near

Walking the line

I could play out a perfect forward line

In my head

An walk it like it were the very purpose of life

I see as much now

And it seems pretty close to the purpose of life 

There aren't a whole lot of similarities or anything worth noting 

Nothing out of the cliche

My eyes look on this wall

(That's how I see the line) 

Just the same as my eyes look out most days

The wall takes me over the land like the mountain's razor 

And the walking walks into leading 

And My weight is flying 

I keep my feet walking 

To remember which side of gravity I belong

But that reminds me I don't 

Actually belong much 

There's a sunlong stretch 

And the light falls into a maddening of colors 

It's pretty much the same as life

The day ends

Fresh squeeze

Squeeze me

On either side of my head

Press inwardly

The glands of these names

And the scents of these touching tips of things--each edge the blade of being

Through the closed throat 

Slit the sore at the node

And right on through the chest 

Flesh out the roads of my stories

Vining their way to my extremities

Now let these capillaries burst with the events in their knowns

Bleed the through the susceptible  

Functions 

These fucking manners and makers

These blobby bits clinging to the biles, bloods and antibodies

Bleed them through

And the skin of my sights 

Won't mean much the same by now

So let them peel away

Let as much as possible leave that way

To pool over 

Into the soup of our creation

Once more

Earthenwares

Here the clay lives in the cups and the bowls, and the plant's pot

Like it found itself there and formed a community

She waves here and there to brush off excesses on her sight 

Lights on a now lighting piece of plaster adorned in blue and white

The surfaces of the earthenware shimmer and wake

To ready for its day

As the one thing it is

Buttony shirts and the outskirts

Take with you yourself

And your comically formal clothing

Take with you yourself

To the mouth of the cave

And feel the sky 

Rasping by the entrance

And filling us 

With a memory of water

As it has fallen

Though you didn't know it

Take your arms

Buttoned at the wrists

As if you feared they would fly away

Have your arm its own meaning

And follow where it points

Questing on

Took the trip

Asked questions

Fought dragons

Asked questions

Dealt the blow

Asked questions

Spurned the tensions

Asked questions

Prayed for even more questions

Walking

I will not have walking without 

Already being Home 

and Home again

Why don't you walk with me

That's halfway at least

Horizon

Hush

There is time yet

To throw in and over again

Tell me how we did it

No don't

Please. I'm flying 

Tell me some other time

When we're drowning

No don't 

Please. I'm trying 

To set myself off

To set off an aloft

To offset the soft 

And off myself 

I ought to be the horizon

A final straight ending 

Neverending

Social posture

I would bow 

But I'm sure the service doesn't translate

Perhaps I will anyway

Because damned be a moment of time 

Positioned context 

 

The stars do not stop coming out

Just Because their names are forgotten

Because time takes time

What would you have me do?

You plucked these chords knowingly

You tuned these fires flowingly 

And now you'd like the beating to stop?

The child emerging in our souls

To stop?

Listen please

I have nothing 

Nothing in this place

Where do you think old hymns come from?

And where do you think they go?

They cannot be burned

They cannot be swallowed

You cannot still this resonation

You Cannot still a know

In place

I hold my breath 

And the attractions?

And the hindrances?

I shunt the motion 

I pull myself back into my mouth

All of it

To incubate

Though eyes may drink and never quench

August 27th

I Whittle errantly in my head:

'August 27'

I am trying to remember the days 

I am trying like the forager

At the end of the age

And calendars meaningless

Into this totem I phrase this form:

The herbs gathered into a pouch

From the walk to see my friends

In the suburbs of hillsboro, Oregon

The pneumonic takes root 

And foliage breaths a new place

New Pressure to the skull

I try to Let those roots be

I look forward

Pressing myself firmly against the glass 

Of my eye

Beyond my gleaning, there here is rosemary

This point stays to me

As if it were the only shard of reality

In the garden

And this at least will grow firm

In the ephemeral forests

I walk now and there is another house with herbs 

I wonder if these people know

What's growing in their own yards

But they do not know rosemary

And I never knew the 27th of august

Stung and then sung

never been so strung out

On another's drunkenness

Burning wet fuse

Splayed onto a floor

Positively wretching itself 

In own refuse

Own slob

What do you want to be said

You who roam the moonlit channels

And climb the sparrow-light panels

Of the castles in the sky

You who know the words better than I

Your laugh could make the stars shudder

never looked up so wide

Echoes passing on

As far as they are long

Sonrises collapse and collage

The darkest blue glows of midnight

Maybe the show can be worth it

For now

Basta

One day I will walk the earth

Through the hills and countries

Wading features troubling

Watching creatures huddling

Praying afloat for fear 

My feet will be bare on the earth

And the slime and muck will come

To teach me the meaning of a story

In the morning of the world's journey

My hair will grow to connect the earth

To the lightning of presence

Branching barriers and then fleeting

Like a brain's electricity bleeding

I will watch the earth come to me

As warp fills us to the taste of metals

And life begins the eternity it meant

Dearly beneath the soil steps have rent

Wreathed in my newer insanities

I'll try to trust my way to bleed the rest 

I'll try I guess

Here it snaps back

An ego a breath a toll a gun a shot

Blastpoundbangcracksnap snips

The reel short

It's real short

Forget the forgetting 

Run or be run

And then make sure you have already begun 

Sing or be sung 

Ring or be rung

Drier then the cold death of the universe

Placid behind your eyes

And for fuck's sake

Cut that name from your life

Rosemary

Wear rosemary on a rainy day

Please thank you 

I'll take you in my arms 

And crumple into the closest, oldest, primal comforts

Or should we consider the heavier ones:

Birch pine cedar

Burn them perhaps

Pyre away that surface involvement

Be the single radiance

And cuddle In wolf pelts

And those looks that ask everything 

Of the small furnace inside us

Bos of pictures

You made up a box of pictures

You made them up for me

Whether I was worthy, willing, wanting

You drew them tenderly

And I have nothing else to give

And I had nothing left to say

From the moment moving, moaning, making

And I was nothing, given away

To mistresses woven like walls

To manhandlers who can only berate

While you were waiting, wondering, wanting 

To draw me through my given fate

And draw me through till I was made

And draw me through with lines and patterns

Which no matter how I use them now

Are just a box of pictures 

And I'm not a hero 

And I'm not a villain

I'm just tatters

How's all that space

winds on the flowers
pacing across axeblade petals
Poisoned curves
The metal stretch
of an indecisive creature
falling into it's own clouds

When so many strides
imagine themselves
into nothing

When so many straights
remind me of something
the sun like a runny egg
the rock like a broken plate

When the rockets all know
where heaven meant to be

Now up and up and up
Now racing spinning
Holding it all
In the very lack of matter
The dropoff of those things
That never mattered
It doesn't matter
flowers in her hair
The air
It's crisp
fit to leave the surface of the earth
Just right
to take distance
all I need is lift

Drivers on a storm

Boatswain
Blowing on his own chain
Rubbed red hot against his own skin
Pinging to him
In a language he no longer remembers
a language without halt or name
He catches some chatter in a drift
He carries the glide of the ship
Off along the thunderheads

Giving up on giving up

I took an evening

A book of inquiry

Delectable

A respiry 

And floated over nausea 

Spit from meditation

Pushing out the crusts

And last traces

Of sensation

Set them all to running

Running to my skin

Bleeding through 

What's left of my questions

Into a bowl 

Of sanguine elation

I am safe 

To vomit every last word

Every last organ

Every lasting pin

Placing me in space And time

Too specific

Who has stranger

Make them with me

Take them with me

Growl at streets

We will

Rip up totems

We will

Dance on destructive airs 

Interest besmote with affairs

So smite a spite 

Through it

I see all 

in scintillation

Wonder where

It goes

Wonder how

It goes

After fully considered

Introspection

It feel

All too specific

Make for strange shade

Human

Hunkers down

Sit in a soft spot

Though the cushions may be stone

While listening to a soft heart

Though the beats may be only drops

Wear soft wares

Though the hat may be a cloud

Whisper a soft lot

Though it may just be a breath

And take a soft thought 

But please be sure to put it back

You may never know who might be by 

To pick it up

Hunkers down

Sit in a soft spot

Though the cushions may be stone

While listening to a soft heart

Though the beats may be only drops

Wear soft wares

Though the hat may be a cloud

Whisper a soft lot

Though it may just be a breath

And take a soft thought 

But please be sure to put it back

You may never know who might be by 

To pick it up

Rocks crunch on the eastern side

Sand is together 

Against you

Walls at the front

Behind 

Besides

All around you

And who knew it plucked away

The sound

And chewed

Replaced it with the sun

There are drifts of trees here

Certainly 

But it seems 

Only me

Only one

With a cool flick 

Of rains returning

To seed a few more

And there's more

To be here suddenly

Made dapple of the floor

I dabble wanderworthy 

Firm and swarthy 

I play a thunderclap 

A sword

Sand together returning

Always burning 

But not a bit as much forsworn 

Scarecrow

On my feet 

Like a discreet declaration

Maybe even obsolete

Such is
that I am the scarecrow

There is day under meadow

And meadow under stars

As if the lift of sun so deep

Could bring the world 

To where they are

The wisps of grassen hair
unfasten to the crisp

Evaporating whispers
From the uninterrupted mists
Working crafty tethers

Bold as black
I hold as that
which leaps into a midnight stare

As long as those nights 

That pretend to last forever

ARYTHMATIC

Like the topography of an arythmatic
or the smallest common mark
of the imperfect maker's take
on man and his sundries
he dances quakes in land
 for sake of burdening grains
that remind the workers to sane themselves
at least twice the day is long
for to keep them working
and then to work their keeping
or it all goes wrong
like the topography
of an entirely different arythmatic

Lightly now

If I cup my hands about my ears

I'm going to pretend

That there's wind blowing 

In the corridors

I'll take care

To creep in on it

And let the creature dance 

In my head

No sense in letting It know

I'm here

When being gets in the way

How many walls

To put me in the other room

I used to dream of worlds

Where crenelations never ended

And doors bred in an uncertain flow

But everytime I woke

I couldn't see anything 

Quite so clearly

Like pulling teeth

Leaves of fiery composition

Etch the creature of contempt

Across a chest so far unkempt

Given no glance from a physician

Droves of coursing woven strains

Driven from the world's other side

Striving to strangle settling inside

These bats burst wanting name

A pinpoint pluck pulls the pellet:

A prosaic penchant for priest's language

Thee's thy's thou's all engage

Omitted mention: I wanted to sell it 

Demon synched like consecration  

To the ligaments pulling me inward

Maybe the sip of something soured

Maybe a pull me from my inhibition

Leaves of fury full position

Bred from season inverse to me

Etch into and out the other way

Nothing but devilish exposition

Cut through the skin 

The paper bleeds

Taking mine

I think

I'll take your eyes

And I'll make them mighty fine

Until the grains begin 

To puff and sputter 

When pressed to grind

A Backhand toss to Let to flutter 

All around my room

So warm and utterly delighting

Like diamonds muttering with lightning

And those are just your eyes

Those are just two round windows

Plate glass pulled fast to fasten

Me and all mine own

To the rest: I'll try imagine

Like a warm night the likes 

Of which have never glowed

To the rest: I'll try find

Because one day I know you'll love me 

And One day I'll have your mind

Sonder

A brief moment of sonder

Reserved for someone

I do not know

As they ponder grounds

soft in sun

Making me wonder

Whether grasses

Struggle with perspective

Spilt

A table covered 

In papers doused

In blue pen scrawl

A thousand songs

Some have spilt to the floor

Some even still spilling

Off of that

To the pangs of regret

To their owner's surprise 

To see so many stories

And even more

That he'll never find

Syzygy

Cutting along a three-dimensional seam

Of size and shape fit to me

There phase those men out of time

Erupting from the hidden syzygy

Loosened as they become, look carefully

The yoke of one no longer fits the next

And dance befits, but mercury sets

Into their bones

Into their inner homes

Into their winnowing figments

Slackened as we know that pact

And wracked it looks

All the way down

Like the way that light between two mirrors

Slowly lets the images drown

Overbreath

Each facing of a diamond:

The door left open

Esophagus' chasing 

The scent in the air

Broth in the head

To drain into the bin

Out through the neck

He's leaning forward

In a legless chair

Wind passing lullabies

Stratospheric; thin

Shade fountain

Cutting along a three-dimensional seam

Of size and shape fit to me

There phase those men out of time

Erupting from the hidden syzygy

Loosened as they become, look carefully

The yoke of one no longer fits the next

And dance befits, but mercury sets

Into their bones

Into their inner homes

Into their winnowing figments

Slackened we know that pact

And wracked it looks

All the way down

Like the way that light between two mirrors

Slowly lets the images drown

Chromorphilogical

All around me

The descants in so foreign a hue

As to which the first I knew not 

But the second could introduce 

My thought 

And impose a radical interruption 

Engrossed in radial surruption

Along the boardwalk thirteen months 

Away from me

Supercharged underneath a veil

Of misunderstanding 

Something I've come to trust

As experience

Cornerstone malaise

Growing up is lame
Braceless I'll be riding my bike
through the day
just to get to the night
and light show dizzy
I just might transcend
The cornerstone malaise
or perhaps fall hard enough
to break every bone in my heart
into the standing stones of
those to crippled to care for others
and cultivate distrust as part
of their structure for better days
where they can deconstruct the calcium
deposited in their souls
and transcend a cornerstone malaise

Petals

I take my head

Through the window

To cool it off

The wind is enough to take me

It knows I'd love to go

Taunting full flow 

Sheets whispering 

Whuffing discreet intricacies

Yet I know

That though all of my weight 

Were washed in that wind

I would stay a boulder 

And watch the petals roll

Into the lee 

And out again

Initiate

In the age of winter
fried up in a bath of butter
here we shiver and slumber
for no one knows how long
a diamond glitters
because we've seen too many blast
and blast
and blasting is all they ever
seem to do

come with me
I say to an empty table
not to chairs or airs
but to the lack of sustenance
we can go together
into the lacking
black matter attacking
peeling me through

even in a blue-sided moon
the humbled form
of anything to remember
but nothing to request
takes to lacking soon so soon so soon
parchment peeling out of me
all too joyful to incinerate
And I stumble through the ceiling
life's perpetual initiate

This came to me like a cablecar
Today
I never take them
I never need to 
Novelty as novelty
Building cablecars of discontent
Streaming into space
This came to me
Until I learned what stars meant
As the origin of species

Midnight approaches

Only so many minutes till midnight

And then six hours until death dawns

In the parchment sunlight that gods

Use to file their taxes

Only so many beliefs left to wander 

Before wandering turns to wakening panic

The kind that turns like time never passing

Squeezing into the abyssal density 

Between here and some allotted rest 

At twelve I know the time is wrong

I forgot to feel my clock before reading it

And now all I have is the last bite 

Less than half 

Emptied into tomorrow

My favorites of childhood

I lost them

In a daily cafe

Like an account I had deleted

To loosen up the workload

For a distant idea of a server

Idly spurred inside my mind

No more excitement

But we all know there wasn't

Any sort of cause in the first

Only the brightest wallpaper

Fondly remembered

For covering walls 

Otherwise bare

When eyes

Were too young to see depth

In a whitewash

Small waits

The house squeaks 

And panels rustle

With sounds

Of little feet

So little as is 

Infinitely discreet

Clicks the shutters

Unfettered from

Severs somewhere

In the house's deep

Stillness now

All the wires 

Chewed through

By a clever kind of boredom

Desert

The very air

Walking 

In a desert 

That looks like 

The backs of hands

Cracked and dry

From so many

Cold nights

Salt licks the sky

Even blue erodes

Coldness eyes

Big wide wet eyes

Holding back a runner

In a lover's disguise

A cold one for the rain

Leaves to swist along

Like mist at day 

The morning dew is gone

Palace gleaming like the sky's

Fresh as flowers feel themselves strong

Eyes that clasp 

Eyes that quiver

And each arrow slung 

Sews a slew of breakthrough

Compelling winner

Her the lasting 

Her the winter

If only whipping wafts 

Wouldn't tumble away

That snow of crystal confusion

Bright with supple infusion

Of prime conception to the thought of you

Hearts blazed white 

With the interact 

And hacked off emotion 

Here went snap a start

To sway and soon decay

Into an entirely new reaction

To totally fall in love with

Prayer onwards

Diviner's verbs

Prove your fervor now and serve

The words which wing out into alien

Rhymes insipid without paling 

And patchwork tongues breathing fire

From ailments too quick to discern

Or wonder if with them learning burns

When strained through the layers of their psyche

I will not be made their nurture

I will not be made their destroyer

They move within me and through me

And maybe one day They will be me

Raging hell through latent brainflesh

Boiling incinerants into my veins

Fresh and power is their name

But I confess to never knowing

Hence the insanity of my conquest

The immolation in deliverance

So loving seer 

See me through vanity

See me through the silence

Pocket

Landings

These bevels

To the principle 

Of creation

Pooling 

Bubbling into elation

My people

Oh my people!

Through the peep hole

Hiding within

The womb of masterful shroud

Bustling anthills

With your churchless steeples

Melding forth above it all

Oh my friends

In the waters of bends

Like and undersand sea

I've killed your seed

In what sunlight

That I need 

To see 

Deaf

If you could reduce all touching

To the dull minimum 

Or the excessed absence 

Then My breath

Will be just as cool 

As the words that come next

And the cool 

Will be as rigid now

As you were on your own feet

Pricked up, the calf

Not even known of how

To settle your own joints

Throw

I put my book down

It was a long day

It felt like fizzy lemonade

I saw the picture in my head

It was a distant kite

I felt so out of socket

So I threw away my magic

And i was alright 

It smelled like spring water

Brights

Heartbeats flickering on my eyes

Suns drilling to my blind 

They confide 

And what I find 

Makes me blind

Like the jealousy that made me

Tired enough to wait here

And worried enough to hate her

In the lostaway place 

That took eminence

I wonder where the animals are 

When we stumble out 

Into the lights

Whether they fuel the underground

Of fortresses puking bile and salt

Enough to spark us all

Enough to fumigate a conflict

Or whether backed into a corner

By suns and trains and timepieces

They know exactly where to kick