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I am not that whomever.
Cat, spilt from the night
Onto porches, clever
Thought out of sight.

Nor am I that nose
Bridging the eye's gap
Fore the knower knows
Nothing whence I’s lapse
I am crying and typing
about a sunken ship below a hurricane
in my chest.
My description stays here, the rest lodged
in this moment because you are too far away
to feel this.
Accept and handle loosely
I must remind myself constantly
21 years or older but I asked to use the bathroom first.
Then I slip in when the bouncer isn't looking.
Naked bodies hanging on poles.
Men, smoke, 90's rap music.
On the stage, they bend backwards like dogs.
Dogs staring back, mirroring the position
and her self - esteem.
A woman approaches two men at the table in front of me.
Her fishnet wrap shows she's naked.
*******, grinding, tossing hair.
Some slimy guys buy us drinks from a table a distance away.
Dorena gulps next to me.
I leave mine alone.
Absorbed into this vision because I have to immerse
myself in this because I must write.
I need to tell people that her hand slapped her ******
like it did something wrong.
She made her hand do that because that man
was giving her dollars as I watched them slide off her back,
her legs; the sides of them.
She gave his friend a dance and a magic trick.
Setting fire to matchsticks she placed on her ******* and her ****.
He blew the flame away.
The dollars blew to the ground
and after her performance she went on her knees,
and picked up the remains.
Her dress, the money, her composure.
Afterward, she lit up a Capri, the type of cigarette
I craved all night.
I bummed one off her and she fled out of sight.
we had a real conversation for once
about your ptsd
you told me
you remember 100%
every guy you ever killed
and you went to iraq...
you told me
stories
what it was like
when you got back...
about waking up from a night terror
slashing your pillows
with a knife
about another guy
who almost strangled
his wife
you told me
all the reasons
you can't sleep
i wanted
to lay my head on your chest
but i
didn't
Toska reigns.
The chariot is losing control, string by string.
Put my hands in the air and allow my shadow
to take me for a ride.
The horse gallops in destructively attentive strides.
Gone with the wind and I bear my name.
Pain kills my ego once again.
Death is not the same as the living dead.
The phenomenon of the world is a continuously paranormal event.
There are so many ways to die, veiled under unconscious eyes.
Freud understands me, he knows the beast needs to eat.
But I don't have the ability to choose on what the other side
decides to feast.
Polarity is grabbing my arms in opposite directions,
my skin and bones are wearing out.
If I don't burn, I'll drown.
If I don't climb up, I will keep falling down.
Love is a circle and pleasure is a tide.
The Hermit comes out with his lantern,
illuminating everything I have so cunningly
tried to hide.
There's a Russian school boy with acid in his veins
tripping when he bleeds.
There's a gypsy girl with the wanderlust disease
traveling on dreams.
Yin and Yang meet.
Strangers spilling secrets while the world speeds by,
everything dark and sinister comes out at night.
Different people when the moon shines.
Grey hound blues singing
sometimes people are destined to meet
for stranger reasons than can be seen,
things collide and transform everything.
Grey hound blues sets the stage for new beginnings.

— The End —