cooked on top the waiting begins again
in pierced-lipped dreams, cream that mummifies the living
fear is the false rage confession dig our own grave
embroider gravestones to be softer
manifesting a new beginning promise nothing but to focus on self
in awareness of changing others
so flawless in incubation i cannot find the light inside
trying so far to come from the backside i have fallen into the hole
every hole becomes to look the same to me from here
thinking what i think is true will be true for me but not for you
or them or the plants measuring world bloom sitting
on stashes waiting for the rule to swing a phantom pendulum
swings by with machete blade tapped to the sky, swings down
to behead the flames of burning translucent gods surrendering
with the pull of a string hiding in the woods for too long
metal sword brains bugs making up all of my skin
surrender now again the clump of hair feels like a baby’s head
my fingers feel helpless then when i think about radiators
keeping my scalp warm when i want no more than a lobotomy
how it goes from the inside heaven to the spontaneous fling
a continuous streaming of sad days plagued by listlessness
missing out on the call from the dark blue
but there you were there you were
newly shaved face and you say you lost your phone
your hands are always full i lick them clean throughout
the day and night sometimes takes time and hours and cycles
and breaks to get to where this is where the paranormal glances
blink in and out with inner peace when you see that being grounded
brings you closer to ghostly nature never expecting to hear back
from you there is a continuous impulse to decompose back
into the soul how life will work from now on:
this is what i will do, meaning: don’t panic
Banner graphic source: A photograph (cropped) by Tapio Haaja, provided without license restriction via Unsplash.
See also: [NERObooks homepage] [tag:poetry]
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