Tell a vision,
bass times and rabbit heads,
dastardly disaster
Panasonified
in happiness,
and loving it.
Masochistic matrimony
masking all the static in a
blue dream
and kissing scene,
perfect.
Imploding imperfection
in support of being
every nothing’s
something
wasn’t,
or was it?
The subject of discussion
is heading out for brunch,
stuttering its way to lunch,
suffering while the main course
is cooking in the oven.
A perfect ending to the start of a story
of me and I
sitting on the edge of a quarry
controlling
the visions as they’re slipping in and out
of the pavement,
eternally transfixed on the elemental
instance, the inference,
mistaking commitment.
What is this?
A figment
of discoloring dissonance?
Simplifying significance?
Capturing all the candidates
in silicone,
a miserable existence, insistent,
malicious, but rhythmic,
atoned, but consistent,
mistook, but mistaken,
irrelevantly sentenced
to heaven,
compelling the impartial to eleven,
and slandering the solitary
making all this movement.
I’m human, and stupid,
an essence of my looming
confusion, and maybe
something sleeping in my vehicle
is losing,
but time can only relegate
the masses.
The breath inside the breathless
only measured by an airlessness.
just a piece of anti-matter,
a slab of
a crooked standing smirking shower after hours,
blasphemer, slathered
in a bath of spent spattered
to the rafters,
a simple-minded method of a fabric tearing
faster, sinking in a second-handed path of power
I’d rather decompose
than melt inside your power outage.
I’m a million, a spittle, a dizzy maturation,
a muddle of a madness murdered in a subtle fashion.
Settle for the smashed and,
indebted as a bastard,
I’m blasted,
but lessened by my sexy sashay, ey.
Beauty in a sentiment.
Chance without the fear of regret.
Is everything the thought that you’ve conceived yet?
Or is it just the notion of a person you’ve never met?
Get set, the buzzer yelled awhile ago, and you
are pondering your presence at the front door.
More is less, and life is too complex, messed
the message with a
missed conception.
As a plume for the atom,
I say softly but with stern embrace that
reaction is just the sum of
finally falling on your face.
Messages I’ve lettered, but deleted with a quick temper
measure my style as a precomposed
backspace sender. Better
to fall than to fly on fire.
Lying in a truthful spire.
Arranging constitution as a raffle
for the highest bidder.
sitting as I lay,
standing as I pace,
walking as I stay,
relaxing as I drift away
regarding as I whisper,
silent screaming whimpers,
misguided tempers,
erratic alternating snickers
a city in the sky,
rain without the time,
flowers smell alive,
dying sensual delight
a mask without the holes,
growing till I’m grown,
waiting till I’m whole,
exploding until
I’m left alone
Rapture 