Leathery skin
furling by
the hides
of ideas,
to impart
the coyest
We are searching for dismantled cameras
with the flashy leitmotif disabled
in a disbanded cinema
And in the dark you ovulated, murdered
under the thickness of rough tree bark
Haul trunks of
a honky-tonk
dismembering
remembrances
rows of seating
Squalling, beautiful voices
throaty, tonefully sinking
in tune with imaginary keys
located in grey, clinking
between stained ivory tiers
and scuffed ebony branches
rending the reddest of heart-drawls
then plucking each riveted contour
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
motionless, inoffensive beige mannequins
stare with purple glass eyes. reflecting
windows in a grey plaster store
shopkeeper embraces
handles a broomstick
his sense is swarming
turns on a television
death and corruption
death and corruption
broadcast test patterns
no retribution for the cold and weak
a quack, hands in pockets, prances past
a roughly-edged black and white photo
of a specific eventful sunset, noteworthy
in the limitless notebook, a prime number
dated, thoroughly checked off, presented
the outer design is undeniably fractal
it is packaged in crushed red riches;
the coloring is so very numbing
the experience is so humbling
A physical form is misplaced
the blueprint is just blank points
faulty articles of a future failure
(I haven't been led to believe
that something makes a good anything)
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
In her hair were
lilacs and lilies
how she felt, indescribable
at least as my hand imagined
an apartment held a sad fragrance
like nicotine and a cold, wet dog
Just in case
you are dense
-I don't think
I just travel, cutting off measurable descents
and action grovels and spits out piths
it dances in a grimy booth
the door was smooth and shiny
it was covered with fingerprints
from little boys in other countries
I said "ma'am, you aught to not invite
those who wish to distance everything
to pull apart each atom, leaving a space
for arson'd counties, and tarnished valleys"
beautiful vacuousness, so glazed & reflective
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
(for once this cannot be fueled by spasmodic impulse
in the cortex, its context's slightly appalling
every single simile has been used
even stating the futility is
so futile, so starvation
digests them)
hates the obvious
reasons with none
destines tomorrow
steeped in sorrow
in the spiteful pun
the tritest treason
a heyday we'll pay
we adhered to one
fly-papered world
and miscalculated
syllables we've hurled
the lateness unfurled
on this newborn day
this was exactly
what you thought
I would rightly say:
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
It was a sigh like no other
a respiration of desperation
a thousand times over
It was as if I could exhale
to exhume my own corpse
I'm in love with this word
only aimless expression
with a senseless,
seamless repetition
for it never disapproves
never uses the writer
as it was itself, used
I'm in love with the world
but only as a whole mess
of uncanny absence
As a strangled moment, leapt away,
exposed by obscure limelight,
I shall expire
Magnifying the reflective scarlet ocean
a marred, oily silverscreen eclipse
a piebald, shit-mired unicorn
curled at the feet of a ******
in a subfusc-glo™ hometown
crushed by rusted machinery
amongst rudimentary scenery
in a homespun anathema gown
in the broken household, wound
up men's eyes, went grey and dying
past every thought, incendiary
words lambasting paper
mayhap, I'm through
trapped, trying to
explain other
wise, now
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
we haunt outmoded roach motels
tacky hermit-drab shells
ready to burst
in all the random, lonely corners of the universe
and coroners
wander stodgy corridors
and remote old waysides
as we rot,
filling the ground's vacancies
tangled up and diaphanous
flaring up in the wind and burning
the godhead ached
and his stomach growled
and time had ran its course
as we wandered next door
left to idle, awkwardly
to savor the flowing ennui
in dirtied decorum
fearful, molten paradoxes
waxing ecstatically
at the moment
our distance dangled in spacetime
it was plastered on the front window
of the dusty, remote, old dollar store
on crabgrass he fell
Charlie horses galloped, tenants of seashells cried out
as it was always much easier to recite
dull, signifying nothing
while determining everything
we're wandering, bleary-eyed individuals
in the loneliest location in existence
relinquished in internal fisticuffs
crumpling the paperthin walls, as the
****** of a moving tire whines outside
and the living backdrop blurs, falls away
and the universe hastily reroutes itself
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
as it implicates its own demise, an imprecise device,
it resides under an old dresser, half broken, disheveled
it is ready to debate against its own existence
but in itself it'd always revel
it's set up to be undone, bait in the waiting room of hell
moth-eaten in a musty basement, left to teeter on the verge
of addressing the most difficult one, dressing us up, to
tear apart the carefree air with a drunken singalong dirge
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
a stenographer, suddenly faced with the importance
of a freshly-inked word on a desiccated page
was so silent, and silence dictates
it spoke volumes, but she was deaf
so her hand just plotted along...
it was as if the texture of the page suggested it
and away the pen ran along the grooves
the scholars were so **** upset
so uptight, alone and aloof
so they spoke to themselves, to no others
and no one fully listened, or tried
(just half interested nods
with minimal eye
contact
and we waited for the end)
as we had walked along
the dusty shoreline
you said;
'I hear the clattering of the television in the next room
the scant candlelight manifests over the dead powerline
& when anyone reads, re-reads it,
I will wonder what was being carried on about
and speculate why your persuasion pervades
a soul-crushing cheapening of the divine
an endless routine, banality of eternity
strength or weakness in our climbing limbs
hosts and the departing parties, faces sans grins
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
a hound stretches on a stoop
frozen, lacking a cadenced pant
sun splaying its last beams against
skin, warm tin and damp rigor mortis
the letch inside stammers,
retches
his yellowed nails scratch scabs
on flaking elbows
dried snakeskin platelet scales
too much residue
of asbestos and mildew, of
burnt gilded pages for heat
'cause they were of little use
to illiterate plainclothe'd sleuths
and the crows outside caw
with anemic splendor as
their ***** broods grovel
the inebriate inside
draws open dingy curtains
for the sun was finally subdued
he opens the window
to a finicky drizzle
and was interrupted by horse & buggy
and the tangling of her rosettes
transfixing voracious, beady eyes
as objects of interest phased out of view
we heard all this through the grey horseshoes
trudging through forgotten alleyways
all too loud and dramatic
we watched from fog outside
the ****** tavern where they drank
blood straight from the stomachs of lampreys
downing life, agnostics proudly clapped, with
death and decay on a parsley'd dinner plate
lingering in the hospital waiting room
for an embellished platter of viscera
to fill vacancies, with burnt rot
with a sterile, surgical tang
and jagged accoutrements
all are gorging lovingly,
already anticipating dessert
each solitary phantasm of a person, slouching in booths, on stools
smirks knowingly at the song that's now playing on the a.m. radio
while positioning their utensils, scooping, filling cavernous maws
and they all smiled
as their eyes gasped
as those outside
chipped their teeth
on rusted forks, and sighed
the dead ounce of liveliness failed to
take hold of its slouching bags of bones
and the coyote howled at the sound of the siren curfew
so listen carefully to the inflection of static hissing
the joyful crackle of disembodied voices
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
an uninterested archaeologist studied the bones of eight
dead citizens who had a gradually tightened their grips around our dreams, tapering
as furling curtains swathed the incoming light, swirling, forcing it into nonentity
one would steer the ill-fated course of all.
bury the hatchet that was used to hatch you
put all of your eggs into one spermicidal basket
only the heavy-handed preamble to my funeral
could weigh against such lofty comparisons
we commuted to separated isles, each with their own emulation of truth
with cathartic perspectives, trees wait to abed in your predestined lynching
placing viney nooses into mother nature's scrapbook, a cherished keepsake,
your freckled dna, an infinitesimal page in her tattered cookbook
only in an afterworld will you be allowed to read your book's foreword
know that there is no snooty producer to create for you a cash-in sequel
they all watch you from afar, hungry, salivating
failing to make a distinction between your life and demise
their story's nothing but an interminable sad ending
a null conclusion with nothing to conclude
it holds its breath, crosses its fingers
hoping again to come through
as I placed defeat to my temple and squeezed
I veered into a claustrophobic brick encasement
colored with lifelessness, detachment
and learned infinity is combustible;
an unfolding polygonal paper
forever unwrapping
I've walked with wrecked leagues
casually entered fiery caverns
and the chilling daytime before me,
never is it compelling
I resigned my mind, contemplated grave comprehensions
redid everything, coughing opuses, deftness, drugged insight
my tactics turned to taciturn. no one was conducting
the open metaphor of your eyes, rendering
internal captions. endless captive renditions
my adoration:
the thickly-caked rust in the kitchen faucet
if you catch my spotty, deposited
despot eyes in direct sunlight,
you'll realize their dimness
staring vacantly
into oncoming traffic,
looming passages
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC