Howling into a dog’s ear,
the wasted days unraveling spirals into the curls atop a head of hair.
The only curls to hold their shape for the duration of infinity.
Time s t r e t c h e d thin across the salty plains,
dotted with coarse hairs, rained on by sweat,
licked clean by soap afterwards.
The mountains and valleys detail horizons of the body,
immaculate, immersing,
drowning desire in a pool filled with liquid conquest.
Yet under the porous soil is nothing interesting.
The surface is too alluring.
No one is interested in looking deep.
Train wheels r ic o chet off the tracks,
slipping on wet planks
pulverized by gravity’s
sick heavy tug.
Amongst interruptions by the sweeping sands of Saharan homicide
the train rumbles through the deluge.
The brainwashed trailer is leaning on its side
trapping the unaware,
inducing involuntary segues into ragtime.
The piano immolates and sets the pianist alight with pumpkins and telephone boxes,
melting plastic reeking of Thanksgiving.
The call cannot be made
when all you have in your pocket is
a paper clip 3 pennies and applause.
The diva croons in the lounge car,
whiskey slo shes out its tumbler
onto formica while the water trickles
down the window pane, changing course
with every jump in the track.
Scratching the surface makes you bleed.
Exposes vulnerable corpuscles to outer elements of deception.
Take your heart out; it will shrivel and dissolve,
A beating raisin
({({(suffocated)})})
by the smog.
The black market specializes in naïve hearts.
The more helpless
the better paired with steamed broccoli
and a gallon of vodka.
We drink from our arteries the thick wine of life,
forcing us to experience sensation, feeling.
When the artery runs dry…… ….we continue to feel.
We are gliding into the cement park,
surrounded by a dingy moat
dotted with body parts colliding.
The clapping drowns out the rain.
Intense burning melts the skin,
dripping off muscles
onto the concrete road map
chasing us in manmade circles.
A trail is formed that you can follow………………………………………………………………. .……..back to your former lives.
Soon that will decay, too.
It will join the grandfathers,
the Nazis,
and the sense of community at the bottom of the bin.
There will come a day
when each of us are at the bottom.
There will come a day
when we tumble out.
On another day
we will bind atomic forces together,
forming a new existence, another chance.
Another full moon shining insanity down from up there.
Did everybody forget to listen?
Two tiny words manage to pass through trembling lips
only to be replaced by another voice.
one reason why I don’t talk much
Shouldn’t we know better by now?
Are these mistakes somehow more heinous than others?
Stable stances are being swept to the side
by the scraping sparks of the plow
coming to clear me away.
I’m standing in the way of self-destruction.
Don’t mind me. I’ll move.
The storm just had to come on the one day I felt valiant enough
to leave the past behind.
The city council robbed me of my integrity.
The state impounded my heart,
charging storage fees for the past 5 years
ever since that flooded evening
when I trapped it under a tennis racket
and walked away.
Zeal in Wit 