Drains remind me slender zoned is the passage from alive to loosed particle.
I enrich appended themes icing roamed over glutton mind schemes, no more really.
Only molecular configuration, chemistry with motives, gurus of nothing.
I bargain with entropy for more time, it’s going to be useless, won’t gird my natural inclination to undo, unbe.
My id drifter hunts interstates for comfort in sparse furnished mental motels.
There is an ugly isotope colliding with ideology everywhere I turn.
Irradiated, we stumble or gig or wish until the tired cells break down.
Police in masks made of nightshade rumors unwind our trajectory, disable our engines.
Keep on, we can only keep on through the night.
I am electrical signal wrapped in soft tissue, would like to be more glorious, fail now to bow.
But that isn’t so bad, is it?
To fade to static, unwind, break down, sleep is nothing more than practice.
It’s just so long, soundless, didn’t we expect to go on?
i didn’t start to die until i saw
far down the lane,
round a curve,
a corpse whose face
I’ve seen before, if only in
a thinner skin.
those hands i knew, i held them
clasped together after all,
in large rooms of strangers,
used them to put this line down,
and many, many others,
made my meager marks on metal,
paper, canvas, and cobbled shelves
from shallow, culled lumber hoards.
strong hands, could not hold against
the invading of The Nothing.
i didn’t get a glimpse of the eyes
hidden as they were by heavy lids,
stiffened in demise, shut fast, but imagined
a watered down blue tint, perhaps foggy,
holding a final snapshot beneath
tired corneas, showing the truth
of the mostly empty universe,
uncoiling forever and forever,
or if not forever, at least
for a good many years.
It’s a helluva life that we get,
A skin riff sustained by meager elements.
Owned or rented or fading even as it’s brightening.
Winched up by holy holy holy, but there are no cookies at the end of this line.
I entreat sweet video clerk, repeat the best parts please, they whipped past too fast to learn any secret to ease my unreasonable disease of the Be.
I just remembered an alley full of cops, a window full of old tvs, snowy street, an evil kiss, a wrenched knee.
There was something beautiful in this room before I turnpiked up unknown avenues,
the table is now an abandoned supper.
Someone left the cap off the ketchup, the miracle has dried.
Band urns spurn the agency we seek, guitars and harps, blues singer hyperbole, spur jazz lingo, cloud up the airwaves.
We are adrift in the dark of space, making ghosts where moments ago we floated through.
Every goddam moment is somewhere still.
My radio no longer receives, I cancer everything I knew before.
And there are no cookies, no apple cider, no brandy wine, no rest at the end of this line.