there's a half moon tilted in my stomach. between any crooked teeth light peeks... radiating everything that is nothing. no use of stretched miles down highways of deserted country road. gospels of wind voiced winged noise, everywhere there is dark is light is light is tiny legs crossed like horse hair brushed against naked wooden orchestras. first time i saw your reflection i saw exactly what you see. imagery.
rose hips and rosemary and kayak float on open shore of slit throat... exposed every reason of slow slow tortures, bubbled out enclosures. the rain snowed silver fire like metallic borders of victorian mirrors. melted from tiny stones rolled into my face so badly i forgot i didn't know how to work a phone. punched in numbers, just numbers, over, and over and over.
painted my face with the loss of fluid and the gaining of new fluid and lay on yellow carpet in the evening while things are coming or leaving but not seeing.
when we all hugged at the same time for about fifteen seconds it was like we were exactly, all best friends again like we used to be. thirty seconds after until we didn't care again. you listened to Del Reeves like a painting but had pictures of modelin woman spread around like disease. the cups in your room grew apart from desk to windowsill.
i forgot to tend my land. and hell is higher than my crops reach they burnt ocean bread and my wife will never exist because she is dead in spirit like old panning pans. huffing wallmart products, like spraypaint cans. like dusting dust off how heavenly light leaks in to bright for i cannot see my future even after tonight.
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