octahedral flashcards, give me another one
i want to listen to heroin and have a glass of milk
and another bent(angular) cigarette.
we ran out of potassium nitrate so go back to sleep, or rather
hang on to that last page of that almost
pulitzer prize winner (it lost to your other favorite book).
I am a hysterical realist
an oxymoron that swoons to
naked stripped songs. just
a tease.
a life made up of lignin plastic and rubber
cotton chitin and glass.
researching unsolved mysteries just to feel
chills again,
like the freezing rain outside isn't good enough.
I read your words and am completely compelled
- emptiness always in our trendy pockets
and dirty mouths. sour sex without love.
I get my pitches from tubular bells and sing all night, copy and
paste a collage, replace symbols with meaning while
my axons burn like the lights left on
in empty rooms.
like what for?
my life is loose leaf paper, no anchors
no phallic root models from 1960
to make you crack a smile.
just a car that doesn't like to start
tilapia in the refrigerator,
and a little less than 100 miles.
No comments:
Post a Comment