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You, there!
with three dogs wrapping
around you ankles

tell me. Do you see me?
Do you hear by
song? Silently sending
melodies. That reach out
like tendrils to the
heart  

strings. pulling,
pulling, the desperate tug
of a girl with
a day left to
live
FRITZ Aug 2017
morning lights an overdose
easy breathing in the honey glow.

the light pushes through my dead plants
illuminating the wrinkled petals

the wind blows soft and smooth
my eyes are heavy and dim.

behind the lids dance cosmicly
patterns and queer visions.

leaving the real world to seek the truth
ill bring you back some flowers.
sticking my head out of the radio
FRITZ Aug 2017
I am,

static bring me back the stone

bring back us the grave.

I am,

weathered and the stones

surface is covered in moss.

slipping my sleeping head beneath

slippery stone.

dead particles clinging to static.

I am,

shadows over your mouth

full feeling of weight and listless

ness lifting you to meet the sun.

I am

sound and soft waters

crisp undulating waves

polish my face.

     my teeth are sharp and white.
I focus on the notions of 'stone'.
FRITZ Aug 2017
lets hide under the bougainvillea amidst the summer thunder

lovely rocket teeth flaring up pick me up make me dance

lets prance along the docks

like the summer lilies and how the water

so cold and green

like the shade in the nape of your neck.



coffee cans and the guts running like black

muddy swirl me around the bottom of your glass

and slick me gritty across your teeth



it was so time it was so e l e c t r i c

the vibes and cicadas and the wind and is turned the air

and under spider webs drops the dew and moist

kiss and kiss me



fried minds and fired nights and

smelly pumpkin teeth ugly goofy

grin hahaha we ate their guts

and left their skulls on our

porch
it's always better looking back. I tried more experimental lit.
FRITZ Aug 2017
we awake and i whisper to u a little while
with all of days gone by us
suffering to palliation and joy to dust
they dying of the light
and the ephemeral sadness in our bones
only the shadow and sleep to call home
melt away
with the fizzle-drip-dripping
skip tipping our hats like madmen
crashing through the black.
Oh Dolores, my pale and powerful queen.
FRITZ Aug 2017
if i spelled 'perception' as 'pursepshun' they would read as phonetic equals. however your pursepshun of the word has been changed. not just that, your pursepshun of the whole work has been changed. why is that? what particular aspect of the design has been affected?
Art is art because it invokes and stirs emotions and ideas. Does it remain art if you can no longer discern why?
FRITZ Aug 2017
a transmitter roughly

                                          feed a rat or pump Mother with a nailgun

               brained easters confetti eyes and shredded vision deserts.

                                                       ­                               frosty spectacular

                          oracular suffocation push & bringing in the changes

                            hyper-faced you got crushed by this crushing rock.

heady aches binding teeth like a calf and its mother frozen in mud....

I have taken your teeth with the seeds of an orange fruit

I am ingesting your breathe like a poisoned candy sweet

I devour your voice into thick and rot

I turn you green and black and blue

you can no longer be the only you.
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