some mornings
i see the sweeper-man,
doing his job quietly,
picking up the dirt the rains left behind.
and i am reminded of the simple truth:
there is a nobility in working,
in doing a task that must be done
but no one wants to do.
nobody says, 'thank-you' to him,
nobody stops to consider how the path they use
has been cleared by a man simply doing his job,
but he continues on,
sweeping away the dirt the rains left behind.

I lost my mind in lucid dreams,
Pull-apart clouds that melt and bleed,
These tiny things my eyes can't see;
Blind to fingers that bend and reach
Like rivers dripping from paper cheeks,
Streams that meet where a heart once beat,
Now a carcass where Silence eats;
A ribcage harness to carry me
And tar-clung breaths,
To serenity,
Discarded as loneliness
Where sadness seethes and sows seeds
To grow a million little pleas for flesh;
And all I reap is this skin
Marked with scars of a reject.

Down here in this hole
Is where I'll be happiest;
My light can't be missed,
If darkness is all my eyes have kissed.

-SLuR

Oh hi there fellow!
I see you there dwelling, you darling dew drop.
I see you! No, not just your presence I recognize your iridescent essence.
Wow, aren't you remarkable with that cascading flesh, supple and prolific!
Your wild dragon fly eyes moist like a glistening tile floor at a high class fast food restaurant.
And hey check out those morbidly ***** brows, all flurried and bunched neatly upon your forehead stage.
You are a masterpiece every nook and pitted cranny, a glorious castle of cells and excrement.
Now my suitably silken friend lets strut out of this bathroom and let the chasm of life consume us.
Oh so exuberantly.