blank stare at blank page
the Pit of Acheron stretching down
pray pray pray with my wretched mouth
for anything that makes me think of your face rising out of it

i still ******* love you

this isnt just feet on the precipice of deepening reverie
this is death of the best of me
please please please let me believe forever that your flesh
still regrets the loss of mine pressed close

my ghost really needs it

every morning i write "mea culpa" on my palm
with a cheap ink pen i found in a parking lot
while wandering around looking for something
to write about
little victories
rental history
past due
losing it
putrid
Euclid in a noose
loose cash for a cheap elote evocation
i bleed truth from my gums when im drunk and my heroes hate me

burdens

or murmuration mid-dance

perspective


im still learning that

all is mind
all is dream
all is all alone

there
the deconstruction made ever more elusive our moth eaten infinity
a labyrinth there was no need to stumble into
but stumble we did
over words
over stacks of books or bones or both
over lovers lost long before the longing for getting lost
in the primordial black of being

loss
the language of whatever god dreamed us alive before dying in her sleep

there
the unraveling reality i snarl at in the mirror of my soul

there
the end painted on the walls of our childhood homes

there
any place other than under the only cosmos ever known

black sun rising behind a pair of bone white pyramids

i don't know why i keep seeing this

the urge to thread my absurd dreams into the naked normal
is overwhelming
and yet
every single morning i dig graves for them behind my eyes

black sun setting
golden sand turned into a mirror meant for the grinning gods
of frenzied denizens of some dim and distant existence

my conviction has always slipped through my fingers

eater of worlds
beseecher of ends hell bent on getting new skin to kick rocks in
constant
unconscious
mach speed
god needs to ******* back to his rabbit out the satin magic act *******
full clips
cool kids pulling
cooler patterns to be enraptured with
slap-dash
dash away faster and faster and faster

heat death

we need silence in each and every vestibule

we seek death like a cheap ticket to a free event we know we wont even show up for

donation boxes overflowing with halfhearted suggestions
futures trading
praise be to praise be to praise be to praise be to
be to
be to
be you
be folklore
be old warrants served to bones beneath floorboards
go towards the morning as well as from where the dirges are drifting out of

incense smoke
the glow of a tv
white noise
no
you know you wont need me
ill float away hoping to find a bright void to anoint with dream-speak
en route to a deep dissent i intend to rent to tourists

you know

for the full experience

and if i must rip rotten fangs
from the gaping mouth of the day
i will do it in the night hours
where every whisper is a war cry
alone and aflame with regret
the regret of never having the strength
to crack my ribs and carve the names
of every single one of these ghosts
onto my beating heart
and show them smiling like a child
while their's beat too

they dance in my head to the sound of blackened canines
hitting the floor at my feet

at least they are dancing