terrapine trannies on trains going haywire southbound alignments crack in the sidewalk cement smile framed by fake curls the color of old gold
old mold smells the same as new mold
but less abundant
gather here
go there
you didn't stay with me
in that dream i had of the most beautiful place i'd ever seen
you said this is nice, now let's go.
i'd bruised my knees to get to that place
i'd scratched my cheeks and calloused my feet to find that place.
it wasn't like the other dream, that other place with the waterfall and the pond full of oil.
James with his old silvertone telling me of the gaseous things.
it was pure,
nothing with skin had led me there
and i was the only thing that cared to be there
under the tree with the green leaves
like any other
bent down
away from the sun and then back up again
there was no where to hide in this place.
no cotton to lay over your body and face
the ground was uncomfortable and perfect
you are awake in this place
you cannot keep your head tilted anyway but up
but anyway, sometimes beauty is less intriguing than something grotesque.
there is much less place for mystery in a clean place than there is in the depths of a mess.
your voice gets more viscous as your words fall out of place
but the feeling..
it translates through the angles of your knuckles
the nothingness your hands grasp onto
it's something big
your fingers are wide
like your mouth that stutters over your domino mind
you know what i mean.
dont you?
we want you to.
i mean,
come on.