Moss covered women
beggin' fog man
to grip a cig
from their tangled wigs
(a snarl of emerald branches
& voodoo masks
with plastic flasks,
they grave loot from caskets
& trash.)

Raunchy regulars
calling loogies to duty.

I've been livin' in a tumble ****,
with a doctorate for wildebeest.

Marinate me in sterling serendipity;
a lace handkerchief blowing in electric blue
Chinook.
Howl and twist your obsidian spit down
her leather throat until she reproduces
glass golem.
Clang & the brass of the thunder,
muffled underneath a Reith that was last
lathered
in hathgraven gatherings.

**** him with your sour tongue
&
rag water whistle .
Cut him down from that arugula suspension
&
let gravity fold into him,
like an aluminum foil gargoyle,
crush to the core.

Glances shared at infinitesimal instances
trickle up my vertebrae,
blow the dust away
& chew the tin foil for me.
Nonchalantly running a gauntlet
that I designed with architectural
displeasure.

If you absorbed all the gold you've ever touched,
feverishly drank the blood of gods,
suckled the syrup from tangerines
until you blessed a famine,
stole your story from a pack of gorgeous wolves,
or inhaled the whispers of every wise soul
it would still not explain your unprecedented
growth & elegance.

A superlative pressure wave in the eyes of
a politician.
Purely an enigma.
Beauty in the form of human nature.
I truly flourish in this experience.

It sketched and slapped an ombre
of crimson reds
& tangerine oranges
until it carved a comfortable atmosphere
amongst the void blacks
and howling navy blues.

Her sun bleached hair dangled over her forehead.
They were the vines that tangled
into wispy curls of tiger's eye gold that
hung lavishly in front of the youngest
temple.
Her eyes were sour,
a Blink and a whistle.
Someone coughing on the last bus outta town.
Those powerful cheek bones,
that she obtained through her
constant "according to" accordion smile,
fell off into a pair of lips
that were just pronounced enough
to make her look like she would laugh & ****,
tempt or incinerate.
Intellect winked from her every word
like a whip of cold water and eggnog.

The Campfire was an artist.
It delicately plucked a scene
ripe with confidence and relaxed alcohol.
A tone that made her amazonian scowl
seem intimate and gentle.

A tortoise ripe with lime stone wrinkles
Shakes off the final layers of that sediment
Crystal that had calcified itself to the classic side
Of the shelf.
Like a filthy barnacle that clings to the inside
Of my skull
& whispers phrases of Walden to the black one
Of my mind.
He threw that spider silk
& iron twine around a lion's
Spine as a sign of respect:
Then he yanked as a means to dissect
When it was least expected.

I was the envy & death smudged black
The ***** duffle bags under a skeletons
Hollow hole.
I hate you with every fiber.

Crystalline gliding.
Clippin' cuticles in cubicles
& itching for a kaleidoscope
dance
with The Phantom
sidling ridged in the ceiling's fold.

Glazed eyes from a friend.
honey crueler.
Polymerization twists coffee sweats with briny tears
& my pores breath the calcification.
Beet red eyes sting like molten hiss
& pollen still buries it's way deep  
into the tree trunk,
Bleeding like a sour calf
just to stroke a
coconut leaf
in the musky village.

I live inside a cantaloupe
so I can't elope with status quo.
Sipping puddles & licking groggy mud spots
so the Queen calls me swamp belly.
She looked like she was carved out of rice.
bitten & frail steps
with gentle linger
teased soft grass
in the concrete canal
where the streets glistened
with mustaches  drenched
in honey brown ale.

His brain is a tickled cauliflower
encased in Papier-mâché,
Lima bean boogers
&
nicotine stained chestnut shells.
Gears torque and crudely animate
his sluggish form and peanut butter
body.
Diabetic eyes,
that bark like a sloth &
lay a thick layer of custard over their
last nerve,
intrigue mine own to stare
into the vague emptiness.

The moon sizzles like an aluminum
cutlass,
playing jazz scales with its
arthritis knuckles.
Finger tip mallets strike
the ebony piano keys
With a lazy,
Chocolate, precision.
Tickles your spine
like sardines
&
cereal.

The scent of blisters
lingers in the milky air,
complimenting the tang
of evaporated perspiration.

Festering under my feather stuffed
comforter
I reflect heavily
and endure no more physical activity
than the sun cooked skin on hour old
gravy.
Everytime I itch my pink flesh
I end up with an oily layer under my nails
that resembles cheese.

I am a cave dweller this afternoon.

Plasmatic schematics
mold plastics
& filament
dangles in the doorway.

Grape fuit sweat,
enough to fill a
Basilisk flask,
stains my nostrils.

Thermodynamic hammocks
solved the energy crisis
between me
& her.

A golden silhouette
postulates in my doorway;
speaking in tongues
to her ****.

She is the structure
of  water.
The process
of a thought.

Gouge out my eye
&
hold it consciously
between those clammy palms .

I have to shake these hatch backed hallucinations.

I have to misplace
these Indiana blues & jig saw walks.
Twisted teeth and sun flower seeds
yield
a paradox with dryer socks.
The girl has Jones pop spilling through her viens
that pumps that heart shaped mass of
gristly whistles and red bean paste.
Liquid fingers frolic with follicles
in the broccoli brothel, brother.
Tongue twisters with the mistress' mattress
cause' I spilt my anchovies salts.

Laying on the saline scale beach,
barren,
staring at those vaguely African trees
while the breeze
claps with their leaves.
They applaud the
Tesla bitten thunderstorm
brewing on another shore,
its tar black clouds,
sticky with tobacco residue
&
plasma spit, flaunting
In the salty starlight.
& here we are.
Tangled in each other.
Tripping over lips
&
tumbling over mumbles,
we try desperately to vocalize
the scene that has comfortably
Presented itself.
Oh how that galactic beast
threw itself over the countryside,
skulking in southern wind
like a cliche heartbeat
running on urea
and ***** electricity.

We hoard our secrets
for nights like these.

Her wasabi breath,
snake venom injected crow's feet
&  chain smoking reflex could
scare a country into prohibition.
Enough ******, power and spine behind
every word to ******* the
male populous into a plethora
of soggy invertebrates.
Barnacle encrusted spinach weave,
obsidian void lip stick she squeezed
off a bat's back
& a Columbian waltz she stole
from a putrid little beasty
all mixed up & spit into a murky
cocktail glass wearing high heels.
You could feel the atmosphere tickle
a bit when she raised a brow at
You.
That silky whisper of a voice
was just an illusionist prelude
to the thundering brass of her
ringing enthusiasm.

She was the most powerful being.
A lioness among the flock of sheep.
A droplet of viscous mercury
in an oil spill.
Raw.
Sharp.
Lethal.

They sell all kinds of spices where
she's from.
Humiliated.
Embarrassment
polymerizes
a sludgy squid
body of mine,
thrashing in a salt water soaked,
choked,
electric chair.
I haven't ever resorted
to paving a silk idea
with shark printed
carpet since the ancients.

A tombstone fridge.

I knew it was that gypsy
on your shoulder
talking on the telephone.
Gun street girl,
riding rusty
in a cyclone.
Cologne
scented gherkins,
flirting,
while her man is slurping jerky.

I'm a turtle who lives in the desert
because he hates the English language.

Washing down nicotine burps
with slurps
of listerine.
Pearl lipstick layers like
sediment over
those festering trenches
where blisters whistle.
Machine gun lung curls
like a basilisk
around his flaccid fist.
Failure to plant a seed.

I left my attention
inside one of those bored hours
spent with you.

I want it back.

The  crippling noir
of that vaguely African horizon
devours the Argon flare of the
city's last words before the fugue.

That dimly lit control panel faded
into a broccoli tipped oasis
as I sauntered down the incline.
Viscous, swamp water murk
seems to fill my lungs as I
descend into Salem's lot.
Lighting is
Everything.

*******

My bowels kiss my muscle wall,
churning,
as her eyes mold into an uninterested
satin color;
like a drop of milk in a kettle black
cup of coffee.

Admiring a vampire for its
reluctant seduction.
He would drain it before
it lifted a curly clawed finger.
I bet he feeds off blister pus
and verses from a half smoked
Cuban.

You can't survive
off Coca Cola
&
crickets.

Some lust driven,
mechanical, force bit my heels with
Her.
A skeleton scatters digitally
& opal curls fold and rally;
like the ribbons
I ripped
off
& fed to the floor boards,
records gawk at the
floral four chords.
Corridors with meat lords
& siphons at the doors
of my poor
endurance.

Lather me in mollusc glue
& beach chairs;
I will win this war for you.
Will the bulky books
teach me more
than the feverish looks?
A question to a bronze haired
child,
transparent
as the parents.
Telescopic looking glass
with the basket of the teeth
we've lied through
set aside where I reside:
A coral cave with my liquid
aluminum hunches.
Playing chess in the nest
that I built with
spit & twigs
from another clown
with a different wig.

The hippy who screamed
at his flower.
It was Halloween
& the malt made me assault
a Queen.

That lunar sphere hangs
like a sliver of silver.
It boils my thin blood & nullifies my exotic fear until
We can dance ritualistically
through cobweb covered streets towards those
Blissfully
Rejuvenating steps backwards.
This nocturnal plague intoxicates us  
into a fugue state of ruthless fever dreams
that visualize memories of our young past.
Grip me close for this ferocious leap into
the Night's chill.
Breath me like you never have.
I try to scream.
I only howl.

Developing a nicotine addiction
over the silk ambiguity
of a pleasure twitch.
Covering up those cyanide dreams,
stapled at the seams,
with obvious white Pickett fences
& regurgitation.


Her desires rattle
in a spilt tongue oscillation.
Contradicting,
foreign mumbles
spill out like crimson
viscosities;
my mind was a
pig slop maelstrom
amoung those
ancient seconds

Those words will clatter
together like a phantom
in my plasmatic ear
waxes
until
Peacetime:

"I love you."

No hesitation.
Solidified.

****** like an
Indiana Jones
classic.

Intoxicated remakes of that
time we started something:
An archive for death memories,
recollected long after
your exodus.

Asphyxiated.