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Thursday, January 27, 2005
Poets Delight in Prose Insane
one day
a new nation
will look at our
yellowed page in history
and recount our trials
and our errors
one day
the united states
will not exist
we will be dead dust
in the past
one day
we will be to other nations
as were the romans
to us
every day, my feet,
my legs
run me two miles
on a treadmill
that takes me nowhere
the ground moves for me
and i'm forced to run along
or harshly fall off
my irises are green envy
a circular forest of jealousy
trees reaching toward the light
with rooted legs, barked branch hands
my pupils are black and empty
and nothing,
a black hole, desolate
and bleak
they are the night sky
of the forest
i think i see fire
somewhere in the distance
a passionate, choking flame
sputtering on its own fumes,
a dancing lunacy
eating foliage to its irascible,
incensed, mouth
this fire has determination
from the oxygen it breathes
and frustration hangs on the leaves
as fall comes, withers the land
and forces them to fall
a fire is inside,
it must be extinguished daily
or this forest making color
will die and vision fade to black
and trailing plumes
it must be fed, held back
if you look,
some days i might have devil eyes
burning at you
that's when i need release
some days my trunk might have horns
spiny pricks that stick on you
and that's when i need release
i touched the end where the pleasure fills the abyss
today
i felt the rough edges of chaos with my fingertips
today
i dredged through a swamp of muck, and sticks
today
i thought of you but drowned you and called it a suicide
your body haunts, your eyes dead holes, your body rag dolls
baby doll
today
i touched myself but i was touching you
i buried my soul's grave, laid dead flowers
everything's dead
the thunder bellows from a sky
its mouth open wide
somewhere i swear i see tomorrow
full of streaks of pain and curtained
in pleasure, darkness a privacy
you itch me itch me
in the right place
you touch my touch me
in my face
you can have you can take
everything i am, everything i am
you itch me itch me
an itch i can't touch
i feel dead, spinning a life
it's full of aches
can you take me let me off
to that place?
you itch me itch me,
where're we going?
what're you showing?
Wake up is the make up
we wear on our faces
dabbed on
to hide how we are tired
sleep would be the life
but we're here this monday morning
doing what's to be done
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