my derelict third year in the drone:
a way to assuage what it feels to
function. to breathe mechanical air.
the rambunctious scent of morning appears
ill, confabulated, lysergic at most.
ladies in lithe dresses pose for pressing scenes.
taken photographs held up in loose light.
pelvises unloosening, ****** on the thoroughfares
fishing for trout as men, men as flowers,
lackadaisical graffiti dropping like simian jaw
upon visions of thigh. everything signatures a suture
so precise like a repair of the lip,
or the rapture of birds in impossibly blue skies.
news was that a fortune was coming in,
and I slept within the masses; dreams deliberately
vandalized and fragged.
they said it would be
marvelous. they said it would not ****
i see a woman
in her 20s. falling subtly, a gingham dress
sexed if not pullulated by flower-heads,
she said it would be darling
my third year in the machine.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
my derelict third year in the drone:
a way to assuage what it feels to
function. to breathe mechanical air.
the rambunctious scent of morning appears
ill, confabulated, lysergic at most.
ladies in lithe dresses pose for pressing scenes.
taken photographs held up in loose light.
pelvises unloosening, ****** on the thoroughfares
fishing for trout as men, men as flowers,
lackadaisical graffiti dropping like simian jaw
upon visions of thigh. everything signatures a suture
so precise like a repair of the lip,
or the rapture of birds in impossibly blue skies.
news was that a fortune was coming in,
and I slept within the masses; dreams deliberately
vandalized and fragged.
they said it would be
marvelous. they said it would not ****
i see a woman
in her 20s. falling subtly, a gingham dress
sexed if not pullulated by flower-heads,
she said it would be darling
my third year in the machine.
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