Clouds engulf the L.A. basin
Layered mold in the
tubberware
lunchbox
I left home.
Except the spores
are tufts of a woman's white hair
Clumped together in the shower drain
blocking the grates.
You cannot shoot up enough
silicon to fill
the wrinkles of a body
hollowed
You'd have to start pulling marrow
from the bone.
These craters of the basin--
****** dry to burn.
hollowed curves a body barren,
tapped out, laid fallow.
Shrouded...
White noise
White film
White foam.
She, with her fingers
in every swimming pool
She, lounging behind the smokescreen
She, big curvaceous mound
smoldering rock of an old woman
She, who can **** it in and hold it in
the atmosphere
She, lasso-ing lady with wild tendril hair
She can't always keep from billowing out
hot air.
Soon enough she'll catch a sore throat.
Soon enough she'll taste the concrete waterways.
Soon enough, she, ittle too long.
The tale of Hydra is a tale of women deflated.
This lick of fire did not blanket the city but set it ablaze.
She swallowed the heat ****** back the fire
bled and wept Armageddon-red sunsets.
White Noise
White Film
White Foam
She, a flat, airless
mortar without bricks
tooth-picked clean.
only marrow left of bone.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 3:45 AM UTC
Clouds engulf the L.A. basin
Layered mold in the
tubberware
lunchbox
I left home.
Except the spores
are tufts of a woman's white hair
Clumped together in the shower drain
blocking the grates.
You cannot shoot up enough
silicon to fill
the wrinkles of a body
hollowed
You'd have to start pulling marrow
from the bone.
These craters of the basin--
****** dry to burn.
hollowed curves a body barren,
tapped out, laid fallow.
Shrouded...
White noise
White film
White foam.
She, with her fingers
in every swimming pool
She, lounging behind the smokescreen
She, big curvaceous mound
smoldering rock of an old woman
She, who can **** it in and hold it in
the atmosphere
She, lasso-ing lady with wild tendril hair
She can't always keep from billowing out
hot air.
Soon enough she'll catch a sore throat.
Soon enough she'll taste the concrete waterways.
Soon enough, she, ittle too long.
The tale of Hydra is a tale of women deflated.
This lick of fire did not blanket the city but set it ablaze.
She swallowed the heat ****** back the fire
bled and wept Armageddon-red sunsets.
White Noise
White Film
White Foam
She, a flat, airless
mortar without bricks
tooth-picked clean.
only marrow left of bone.
