Pitch of morning agony and music of blue evolution
passing day blowing up against dam before lunch my love, ha!
feed me that
in that hour and i’ll be ready-
for every onslaught to slop its remains
on my face as it disappears
give me just that one lunch where i can
get ****** on by london by straight and complex water
and feel at home, and we’ll have no hell with
my small life, i’ll connect my eyes with yours
and listen to everyone of your beats, even though
i prefer to be dancing chin dug into collar
striking, its all good-

gimme your hand and we’ll chance it my dear, wheels
and quiet road gripping, and we walk fast home
as it storms and shines and the worlds smile private to us
sliding away up on still elevator with all the imaginations of advertisements not important-

we’re drenched and it’s good
a thousand hawks come and it’s good

and who ever made those walls was a genius, he knew
that in time there would be people painting and ******* them
down

we’re canvases warped
brought forward

by those before us who used their own flesh
to threaten the darkness

and that shape is perfect if you’re lucky
and the coyotes dance disobediently
when you try and stop them

we’re shaped by the face we sleep beside
know it inside its bleeding parts
know it so thoroughly that it kills you whilst living
bleeding into the rest giving life

And that

one

will not be your name or what you know

ice bergs grow covering every motor part for miles
unable to lick under their own white grills
forgetting
that we’re all on fire-

and the meteorites will do the same
and play the kind of deadly songs
that bring us close.