Up above the hard light your soft moon waxes poetic memoirs of a faint dream, sights unseen until the sunrise beams bright in your mind -at a loss to find meaning in the crossing off of a checklist written in the thick of it...this business of living in it, like some cosmic ripple with nipples and a long neck- like a fleck in the spatter- just a few invisible pieces of matter, scattered about a bipolar vortex to another strange environment, spitting out pretty colors around our greyscale defeat, secretly neat in all it's replete and utter chaos, like a coin tossed to the wind into a double-sided wishing-well inversion, just another variation on a theme, perhaps a perversion with a scheme, maybe even a fat cat's dream most wide-awake and unmistakably coherent- parent of all including itself, getting high with a little help from its friends, sending itself love-letter preludes to a kiss, dearly missed indeed, poor old thing, the sight unseen in the sunlight gleaming off your blinking eye, mascara-dyed and black as the night, with no moon in flight - an observation you might contrive in the dark in some parked car in some park far from home, under stars so cold and impersonal you could cry, but why not just sigh and simply say hi to this impending surprise delight..so frighteningly real you can feel it to the core, sore and tense, fenced in by itself, as if painted into a big complaint in a small corner - born for your own sake unto this fake ouch reality that can really hurt, as it flirts with words and symbols among the nimble and quick, hitting brick walls taller than fallen angels, sitting pretty and new-fangled, dangling a million hearts over the edge.... pledging never again when severed thin, in the thick of this checklist-productivity -a shipwreck obscenity with many men ever winning the war on peace, fleeced with nervous tic trying to swim with red bricks for shoes and the blues for you shrewd sirens of the crying sea, weeping free it's waves of reflective grace from the dark face of its turmoil- tranquil all the while- as miles and miles of deep-secret cover-up crash bashful upon the shores of mountain-top continents, all bent out of shape....displaying things great and small and all divided up into greedy pieces, by beasts turned men, grinning smug as their shoulders shrug off smog while their knees buckle and their heads nod, and into their hands they fall as they stand bipedal and tall, feeding old habits in the call of the wild while out from the rabbit-holes we emerge, purging periodic, erotic in our smooth-skinned forms, born unto this to-do-list closed-fist battlefield, though we had a feel this might be tough we concluded enough's enough...so don't dare fucking scuff up our love...we've been buffering up above and we wear the gloves that cover your fingerprints ever since we cringed at this war-torn ego-binge we now call home- full-blown amnesiacs attached white-knuckled to this sea-swallowed landmass, holding fast for dear life a handle once thought had... until the madness set in bad, sad as the day is long, all wrong in the long evolution of progress... may we simply suggest an alternative to your furtive denial and smile upon a change a heart, no question-mark, no bark nor bite, no frightful nights or spiteful moon, only you and me and this....kissed upon the furnace, checking off our list....
No comments:
Post a Comment