become cemented in my clementine indents
comb thru my spritzer peels and feel my scales
cradled back curved with soft hands and knuckles
cover me with darker pigments of blue
I'll swell under the thick, grow mold in my creases
fill in access points so my insides stay ripe

Tell effigaic lackadaisical lillies
le cafe file a gilt cicada ilk sillies
fillie aisles a acidic lick clef feel
icicles dial as illicit greek alphalpha

leaning on a rusty figure eight
my nails chip away at it
head on the tabletop lifting breaths from the center
minute single snares snap capturing the space
time reddens and swells like a bruise around me

sop up my wilted remains from the garden plots
polyglots in my sinuses whisper rhymes in sanskrit
laughin in rhythm within my toe tappin on icy paths
a buncha doughey toesies poking in the carpet

Departed parts ring of days
Park a farce in a myriad of silly ways
Drink on my lows, things happen
sing rhymes from toothpaste town
Protiens in my eyes break down
Give way to black-eyed scelera
Pupil covered cataracts
Moccasins left in a muddy rain tent
Floody grass below a blue tarp

Up and up and open up
My doors are shut I wouldn't budge
so swallow locks but doorknob holes
to eat through bugs that can't disgruntle
and crashing mantle formed in gravel

Pushes digs bushes roots in deeper to
The thunderbrush tickles sordid sighs
Rubs sickles on distorted thighs
Leaves humble dries
I strives

I met her on the road
Exhausted just like me.
I asked her why she's walking
She told me she is free.

I told her I'm a pilgrim.
She warned me, don't forget,
You may be tired of walking,
But your end is 'lejos' yet.

I told her Santiago
Was now my Xanadu.
She laughed and said the Khan awaits.
I laughed and said I knew.

I've seen his horse on hills afar,
He canters while I walk
And Kublai champs his teeth and shouts
His sword spits while we talk.

He wears the forest as a cloak
And chains the wind as breath.
I see him chase me further on
He tracks me to my death.

I asked her where she's going.
To Santiago too,
But I don't seek the spires and peaks
I'm hunting one like you.

He's running as his boots get worn
And I champ my teeth and shout.
He's keeping eyes out to the hills
While my sword point seeks him out.

Her deep black eyes and strong disguise
Bled from her and she stood.
Kublai Khan afore me spoke.
I ran but 'twas no good

She spoke out strong and in a blur,
'You are not my prey.
For many men along the road
Flee demons every day.'

And she roared and drew her breath,
The wind took up her gait.
She took the time to smile before
Her horse flew fast and straight.

I watched her go, still for so long,
The road behind ignored.
I heard the wind blow on before
I turned and saw He roared.

The hill was crowned with forest
Drawn around his back.
He spurred his horse on and the steed
Cantered down the track.

I turned and walked, slow and calm
For I am used to demons.
Though on the road I keep him towed.
The Khan is still the freeman.

Toes curl like my furled eyebrows
Note left on the coffee table
Musky dust in the air sets the scene:
Cough cough
A sleezy jumper cable
Laid down in a thin moat surrounding my feet
Boats don't float in fleece sheet fleets
Astride rippley waves of murky sand
I sink up to my throat the grass grows
Into my nose