so faint,
this feeling,
concealing the self
the key, the gate.
this phantom of fate.
awake?
maybe... not "if seen more before."
how could life keel over so.
chore like choir,
shifting shore,
at core.
endure.
in door.
..snore.
hot magma.
still?
para-lapse.
"who's here"
-yelling like this
bathroom floor can feel.
-hear, hear-
nothing .
the embrace....then death.
again till breath,
bleach white birth.
touching earth.
Suspense....
Jul 8, 2011
Jul 8, 2011 at 10:17 PM UTC
screams of systematic repetition
tuned to the key of C
rejuvenating the pulse
of the pulp on the floor
I found the time space continuum
on my back porch swing
stepping toward the screeching sirens
revealing the past scene by scene
Timing the sun in wrist-watch format
the liabilities not mine
the doormat said "welcome"
you catch my eyes glaring,
hastily waiting for your tears to run
your feet follow in suspended motion
Gunning for the hallway laundry chute
only to find the triggers on safety
the notion alone is enough
resetting the sun dials
with steady hands of anxiety
attacking the knobs at their fastens
My subtle brutality breaks
as
I awake on the kitchen floor
while the screeching of the sirens pull me in
Jun 30, 2011
Jun 30, 2011 at 9:16 AM UTC
"amusing isn't it?"
the angel sat back and laughed
the demon didn't get it
"how so?" he asked
"well you see those trees?
they feel so secure,
held in place,
like statues."
"yeah so?"
he scratched that spot.. on impulse… always on impulse
"well those statues. you see
have no idea
their being hurled through space,
and aren't very safe at all"
Jun 30, 2011
Jun 30, 2011 at 9:13 AM UTC