I was the composition,
You were the Grand Cross,
The night a burlap sack over my head.
I poured all my energies out,
Sloshing like a mop in a bucket; you,
The highest order planetary alignment,
For but a second decomposed me.
So once more I eavesdropped on sleeptalking gods.
After every meal I have milk with dessert,
And, having left it on my desk,
It turns fast.
[Dreams of wool, paint blotches, and abrupt abstract masses]
I rasped through gritted teeth,
My mind waiting in the backseat
Ripped apart by blue blue red black so black you couldn't see them.
Fuck! Goddamn it I can't breathe! What the fuck?!
[Dreams of lambs leading the shepherds]
How are you feeling? Sorry to hear it.
[Being charmed by the snake]
I sat in the coarsely interwoven memories,
Beholding the pome of your body.
It's all I can... about....
I'm the shit hitting the fan.
[Rising above only to pop like a bubble at the surface]
...and suddenly, you stopped breathing...
[Here in the trunk they locked me in]
Please spare me your unfortunate tragedies,
I have a legacy to attend to.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
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