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Mark Armstrong Apr 2018
Rapt by prognosis, sterile elocution
Acute halitosis, banal delusion
Digital notice of distant retribution
Thrombosis will move you before revolution

Brash adolescent right-side part,
Strand obsolescence, abstract art
Pinstripe filaments, two turned backs
Bowed in benevolence, borrowing slack

Hieroglyphic ruminations,
Plastered protestations.
Muscle memory incantations,
Aquifuge of patience.

Future shock, feminists ride-centaurs
Skin-tan hedonists reside-indoors
Tin-can telephone spinal chord,
Sings-an injured semitone final word

40 years since you were a punk
Pen Lux Dec 2011
fire fighting &
             I can't stop
                                laughing.
and can't stop tackling
and can't stop being    quite
******
and I can't stop being  quiet.

thrombotic
lobotomy
you are
on top
of me.
     and I'm losing my breath
and I'm holding my breath
and I'm going under
and I'm going to cry
and now it's all over
and I wonder
                       if I ever really had it in the first place.
right before then, I knee you in the face.
he just doesn't listen
cause she can't think
can't speakkkkkk
it's a double lip kiss to the sky,
marveling at the light
                          darkness
                           brings
I'm spreading my wings.
in steps to your house
in steps to your heart
in jumping in pumping
in moving behind.
I'm calling you mine.
I'm rolling over your body,
I can hear you breathing'
I mistook your calm for dreaming
but when I called your name you weren't sleeping
you opened your eyes
                     and you said
"you're a beautiful heathen."
I still am.
I am infinity
standing up straight.
by all means believe what you want to believe
I think you might be in love with me.
sometime's I eat flour, it feels good in my throat
dry like a pastry, it's a coat throat choke, sometime's sweet
but that's just me.
don't know how                I feel
sometime's don't know
                                                     how to feel
                                           at all.

I'm king today, but every other day I'm
Not The King.
On the days that I feel dead,
I'm God
with your face on my face.

you're love sick
I'm sick of love
forget about it
write home
tell me later.

— The End —