The walls drip yellow.
My teacup is ridden
with thoughts driven
from buzzing and Queens.
They claim glory.

A skyscraper tastier
than dew from street sewer
with gray, AM haze
as people jut sides
to climb, slip snidely
atop, cut voices in lies,
rushed by without flicker,
a thought for
ever-blackened drop
of dark roasted, cig-toasted
coffee drowned by a cup.

So, taste it now,
your lips of grounds
in café chair
on dirtied walk
is unaware
of rays in sky
and earth below
and earth below
the pounding thump
that make World go.

Grabbed honey-stuck tips
from a table of glass
and sweet, sutured lips
from ignorance.

kick your legs like...
coy tilt
to your hips just...
that, yeah.
hold it-

Now...
bite the red
lip, flash
your eyes.
hair curled into
an unlikely peak...
pointed toes align.

Oh,
*****-ish Skin,
slick and soft
I wish I could
wear you more often
but like so many
in disguise
the mystique thins
if viewed repeatedly

instead I will
keep myself in
a closet of
seduction and pull
out my pinup on
a rainy day.

the glitter and stars
will keep the gloom
away.

scribbling through pain of
wrist and tensed forearms
brought bettered by repetition
thru peddled death of calves
and ruined bowels of pre-
cancered prostate. constant
film of excreted toxins and
another cigarette only suffo-
cates these already humid-
battered lungs. another trip
out of doors only brings
realization of the heat inside,
buried deep beneath time-
pressured skin. some heart
forcing beats even though
cells have hardened via emo-
tionally evolved polysaccha-
rides. perhaps times' gain of
addiction finds lack of release
of toxins, perhaps the devel-
opment of a superior being
detached. lies, and realized,
wholly-owned and flawed
chitin formed of prior life,
formed of shared chemicals
of plasma-like water shed.
and called abrupt ending,
and lack of self-perspective
found lead-in to ending the
reign of self. ending some
reign of I the Destroyer.

and the sweat lingers with a
thin film of dust, dirt, mold --
whichever what have you.
what little hydration left of
this soft fleshy vessel seeps
through this veil. creating
rivers of mud that flood the
eyes and blind. though hue
of general existence if silh-
outted. and we follow the sou-
nds hoped spoke on the proper
path. shambling the brush,
ankles caught tight in the
thorns of the undergrowth.
never a first in leaving a
blooded footpath home. and
false words call us upon a
path in Life long returned to
Nature from man. and with blin-
ded eyes and gnarled sense,
trouncing the threshold of door
long closed, fearing only the
chance of having all ended.
the Ocean's desert is nothing
but the sweat of Man's ages'
turned to dust. ended of a
vessel when purpose has seen
fulfillment. to nurture, and
bring forth perpetuation of the
curious disappeared mysteries
resting unburdened, with ponde-
ring left nulled. and recreation,
re-mythologizing aeons not long
past. only a couple thousand
since the last hoarfrost blast.

losing it, losing all
and sleep came in
a six hour flight.
thrown clear of the
abscessed daylight
and losing longing
early in the night.
and longing for err
little thing to walk
by, wigglin' and
they say we were
friends. but not quite
in understanding of
this concept of that
word thrown clear of
pitying mouth and
lossless droning voice.
losing it, losing all
and err thing ever
considered truth or
actuality. though, and
in truth of truth, these
are wasted words.
wasted for purpose out-
side of another. no pur-
pose to any other when
isolation was formed as
moral dogma, when prefe-
rence is towards burnt hands
in place of yard-stick lashings.

and only reading, only
input dulls nerves to
the truth in word.
without output, wi-
thout application of
garnered (no, acrrued)
intelligence then wh-
ere can be the soul
to wisdom. and exper-
ience is part found-
ation, and without sec-
ondary support man
shall stand alone his
selful house. and
cries in question of
fairness, the redundant,
as an aspect of Life.
as a driving force,
one that seizes with
each lurch. and those
cries echo from a plane
A to B life when we
are not vertical in Na-
ture, but instead we
slide from top knot
down some rope strung
by supreme benefactor.
to be caught in a noose
on the way down, or
to slip sublime and free
from the burns left
on the palms of existence.

summer of sweating, again
on felted couch from curb
side. no longer living from,
but now found (seen in)
comfort and time to brake.
running is stature set, now
for-to no longer from-to.
reticence in lingering good-
ness of lustless vessel. lust-
ful psyche. lustful soul, and
all know that exists of the
brain. epicenter, and natal
first-formed. far from first
sitting in some whispering
abyss. in absence of a whole-
some feeling, in preparation
of returning unity thru dis-
tanced words. questioning,
ever questioning the thoughts
wayfaring through the soul
in vehemence. teachers with
a breath never in speech, but
ages' ink pressed in repetition,
trouncing some threshold.
breaking imagined barriers, and
Harry Morgan's creator might
scoff at this ink of lacking age.

In lunch recess
you made your way
to the sports field
Reynard going on

about some girl
in class
who he said
had navy-blue underwear

saw them
when she was going up
the stairs this morning
on the way to maths

he said
the sun was out
in full blaze
and he said

you’re not off
to see that
13 year old *****
are you?

she’s a year younger
than I am
so what’s
the big deal?

you said
but what about
the kick around
with the other boys?

you saw Christina
on the grass waiting
she was sitting on
her school jumper

being too hot
to wear
girls are a downfall
Reynard said

leave them
to softer fellows
but you parted from him
and walked to where

she was sitting
you hearing
Reynard’s voice
over your shoulder

what’s a matter
with your friend?
she said
he wants me

to kick a ball about
but I’d rather
be with you
you said

let’s go for a walk then
she said
and got up
from the grass

and brushed
her grey skirt down
then took your hand
and you walked over

the grass
and she talked
of her morning
of dreary lessons

and how
that morning
her mother had ranted
about her untidy room

and the leaving
of clothes everywhere
you listened to her speak
taking in her nose

and eyes
and how
her lips moved
and her hand

was becoming damp
in yours
and you sensed
her pulse

in her wrist
and how it beat
and she talked
about her big brother

how he was always
where she was
and then
she became quiet

and as you reached
the fence that enclosed
the school grounds
you watched

the traffic pass by
like prisoners gazing
through wire
at a far bluer sky.