Stasis cracking,
where
folded again and again,
the
material thins...
The Gilderman
spots drops of overmuch moisture on the wing
as the
nose is pulled downward by mirthful gravity,
the Earth
calls for a kiss.
The
formless dark of the future looms as a mountain
and may
not be topped.
Appears a
conceptualized barrier of grasping gnarls,
the
lingering fears like February’s bare branches,
the last
dormant sticks stretch to scratch at his feet.
Willing the
next mountain be topped.
Eyes
bright before find less to see
it seems,
but only as they can perceive,
as visions
fail in the west must follow around to be lost in the sea,
as our candles
gutter in boiling tanks of radioactive seawater.
We have
left our legacy behind.
We’ve self
incriminated as careless shadows barred in pinstripes,
thugs of
apes, hairless and flipping off
the
mountain tops, jagged and roped with dead adventurists.
The
midnight clocks stop as we defy Time
and defile
our original rhythms,
extending
the darkness, and blacker lies than
Light
defeats Night.
And every
day there are more faces where they shouldn’t be,
expressive
phantoms smiling strange,
winking at
this sanity.
with mimi
we in tone
just make
it stop
for god’s
sake, don’t cut anymore
leave me
beside the battlefield
don’t
wonder
just let
me piss in this pot and be done
1 comment:
Love.
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