view from the kitchen window

August 11, 2017

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in the sand

grainy cubist
muted neon black
is your face

outlining static
stacked prisms
called into my mind

exploring edges of metallic flesh
alien soundscapes
echo across the bed

i find you there
on the inside
a number waiting

in the sand

transcended

falling through the open door
from light to dark
static in over the airwaves
and though i don’t
i can still get high
in my mind
with white tables
with white legs
holding mirrored candles
to illuminate my meanderings
when my mind just wants to
lay down and
spread out
expansion rises up
ears going out to
grab the sound
bring it back and
open it up and
set it inside
dead skeletons say ohm and
i’m transcended for
a moment

guns for expression

but it wasn’t just me
it was him too he said
that was nice
our tails would be pointed
what would we do with them
and robotic bionic claws
or tattoo guns for expression
but how would they work
without hands
they replace the hands
he said

you ever

will you ever really know me
will you ever really want to
will my dream of you
wake me

i have everything to say
and nothing to show for it

til i laughed

i cried and i cried til i laughed
cause i realized there was nobody here to feel the pain
not really
so i did the nobody laugh
cause that felt good too

why they sit outside

i understood the images today
and i threw rose petals at them today
and they dissolved inside me today
and they answered in God today
and then they reminded me
its all a pretend reality
they reminded me why
they sit outside

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