These things that we gather about
these fornicating scribbles of art
scimitars of sense and sound bubbling
rejections spelt like blood running out
ululations of spirit and other certainties
bleeding hopefully read and deeply felt
I'll take a coffee and a sandwich of meaning

yes yes you are right you are beautiful yes
this sound bathes your nerves and raws
those things that connect you to time's killers
seconds slaughtered here in honor of your fear
what about what about what about what they say
shame rules your day blame rules your way
something is running out something is running
forward about to run right out of my skin right
aside to your reading here with your judgmental
ear skinning my hearts work like small snacks
ick you say ick this isn't to my taste this isn't
my cup of tea i don't take it filled with blood
this was a day in my robe this was a day

with a finger in my ear a song in my art
i am pulled along bumbling grinning
awkward in the slip stream keeping me off
really
are you still there are you still curious
if this has meaning if this has beauty
if this has some understanding that will
ease the up-welling of annnngst and anger
or click the box of right and let you smile
just smile