Sunday, August 29, 2010

under the sleeve on a whim (while listening to Groove Armada)

fuse lit
and the cuff is burning like parchment
connection to splayed out phrases
no one knows what to say

depraved center
bartenders and cigarettes
the smell of false interaction
satiation is not an option in this scene
only the obscene

delight in when the door opens and we walk outside
we walk outside
an entire universe in the living room
never left the soft structure of home
yet observances came easy
like fortune telling was nature
and this music in the ear is blood

her dance constructed of sketches
glue stick type
the phrases stuck together like intention
not recorded

sensation is flight
and magnet
and wearing off of wakefulness
no one will read these words
and if they (you) do
it won't make understanding even if spoken out of sound

wanna know why?

because i'm not your familiar
nor trying to reach out

just listen:

i'm scared
scared like maybe suffering is undercover in the guise
of earning bread
of earning care and consideration

i'm scared
like maybe this whole big time i'm alive
little moments
spread and disperse
and sudden are dispensed

and maybe
i'll forget that really great piano solo i heard
that made everything perspective
and poetic
and pushed hesitation into the ground---

gesture towards sky
silent night
church songs gone right
yet this prayer has no end
only ( )
and time

only ( )
and time

only ( )
and time

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