Monday, November 19, 2012

Hyasinge, who can suck the music land

I know pulverized glass may not seem fun now, but in time
you’ll know a uniform worthy of Captain Crunch, your mouth
near Blaze cornered by its heavy heavy coals. Infinity, not so
bad in circuits, red_hairy haloes rising out your neck suit me. 

This is, of course, only the future of things. There is no Moon 
without a Wig. There is no Emergency without your Openings.

Our eyes now. What sweet UFOs to grow cemetery forth,
because I was not raised on nipples but mothership logos.
Where red lights, in traffic, as you know, dangle down dentless
of mosaic gloss_cradles. Ah, no one likes my heart_sized wink?

There is Nothing in the kids and Nowhere in the wind. Hurts,
how much time I’ve wasted perfecting my October Lobotomy. 

Please, travel with me a bit. I’ll shred away your fading home.
Places places, why so real, right? Just raise bit-maps under
ligament’s hippodrome tart for a century, wer-mantis fumes 
tracing the cascaded lines of sinew all over-- tada, our skeleton. 

Once every thousand steeples, the Flare resurfaces. Pale near
to blind with basement icing, quietly stirring in its bright glares.

Mom says that good things are the result of best people. Some
sign I watched in my guidance counselor’s bedroom says no 
place is a wasteland where hope crawls. My friend Hope says
I will never find anything. But I own your muted roast of colors. 

When all else fails, I can come out of the window and hold you.
Nothing spreading by the lightless channel, all TV super_scalding. 

Perhaps we don’t live on a globe but just this really ugly circle.
All those pits and shoots who glimmer like depth are just tumor
butter, crescent to strident, permanent throat_banging. No win?
Nothing says ‘I love you’ like gag melodies, phlegm_sorted bolts.

World I first made over you: worm_twinkling darkspam, neon
wound of saint echoes. Priest robed in some fleshless tranny. 

Doors split from the PVC of boy cocks. Snot-crinoline only 
visible by cirrus, all skin ribboned in your asshole rain. Our Best. 
Pump my skull_flock back up until your kidneys drown in eclipse. 
People confetti speckles after, gargles past awe. Enjoy me, ok? 

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