Tales of tangled limbs and broken moans-
how she rocks the bed on the down and low
-those strangled hymns, bespoken bones,
the headboard talks and now he knows
that the picket fence has been telling lies
and laughing between painted white teeth.
The daisies in the window were another disguise
for the suburban underbelly beneath.
you keep a cigarette stash
in the crawlspace
under your bedroom floorvent;
hiding newly formed habits from the hungry
eyes of friends, family
only once or twice a week
but it's enough to make your teeth turn
to acid in your mouth-
swallowing cloth and fumes
and futile moons
that sway above the firmament,
proving life is just a bubble in a bubble
in a bubble we can't see;
I think it wrecked your psyche, knowing
there were objects in the pale beyond
and another layer after
that there were spaces you would never go,
could never know as anything but concept
artwork cleverly curtained
in an unreachable, half-imagined space
and you don't w
dear
strange satellites in a sky of violence
roam and fumble; threads of rumble,
wicked spines burst out in light
and stretched taffy souls, bathed in saltwater
dreams without a purpose
behind the 8 ball diner,
hours and hours ago
flitting in the strands of opera
this moment in the stuck, burned sun
throats slick with sweat and drought
hurtling our grudges glass
against the aperture--
at last
I am no longer low lands bending
to the wind
drone angel, darting
in liminal space // crowded nebula
of fingers, ligatures
stretched and binding fate to frame,
heart to heartache
wide wide eyes, chromed over
and maybe less than spoken,
we fell against gravity
approaching the edge of a curve
\\ but drifted back in place
through autumn water's wane
in fragile bodies, slack and going
we winter in our hurt,
under white shelf of snow
found by no soul, found by no sound
here in solipsistic drift, bumping against the void
we find our narcissus
in different tones;
indifference grows
and malice makes us whole