Curiosity
of the hand-written speaker
We passed your house the other day to tell you where we
sleep. We went on to enter and you yanked that chain and kept hitting us. We
bled from ours arms and noses, our teeth swimming in a pool of blood and snot
and you yelling "just yank it". So we left, without telling you where
we would go, and you danced your feet out of their sockets on the streets that
night. We will conclude this formal apology; we will see that the chains will
be yanked no longer.
Marry the
merry
See if I care where you plant your garden, amidst burning
cinder or smoking oak. Rely on your words only when I tell you how to speak. I
love you when you rot away. Under a mouthful of chocolate I see your puppy
choking, I see him wheezing life away. I'd like to see your face among the
ghosts you claim to hear, to talk to them while I breathe so heavily on you. I'd
like for you to tell them I love you, I'd like for them to cry.
Pee on
the sky
Where would you be if I had walked you home last night?
In the bedroom I see a shadow, singing ta la la. You say
it's ok and I believe you. I lay you on my bed, you smell my cologne. There's a
spinning mirror while we're at it and a sense of tragedy in your smiling tears.
You say the rain smells funny, I say the buildings look sad. Your wet hands
wrap around me and i sense the concrete around us cracking. We're squeaking as I rush into
you so hard between the rain the moon breaks.
Just turn
left
She feels a little different every day. There's a tube with
a bag lost somewhere in her veins. There are always ice chips and bright
balloons. In her haze she would like for me to appear, but a long wreck
separates us, filled with words and gestures she can't see anymore. In her haze
it's like a big déjà vu; there are puppets you've already seen and sex you've
just had. There's a talking house and some oak, and a sense of someone
constantly present. Or maybe not: in a
haze I appear kind, not cruel. I hit and run down only outside, only in real
life. She has no ghosts there.
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