lurid warm
one morning I awoke to this voice
saying just close your eyes again
those dreams had left me greener
than before
and prayer flags fluttering
tickling my windy self-consciousness
and my transdirection identity was so unsure
but I was sure of the insecure
and I made a wish that maybe;
just maybe...well
maybe Kerouac will tickle my belly
maybe Bukowski will mix me a drink
maybe Mozart will giggle excessively at a joke I make
maybe Thompson will pull me up from the pit,
hand me the gun
and a glass of water to
say sweet dreams
maybe judgment will become awakening observation
and lucidity will become the inbetween
maybe the Reds will become purple
maybe taboos will become tradition and
language will become extinct with linguistic intelligence
some empathies were the origin of cliches
the beads that itch between my skin and musculature,
the space between
(pigments) protein layer color
thousands of frictions and
silver halides compose
light sensitive words
silk lining wool and the
punctured skin of
anthem caked streets,
smiles lining silk veins
and golden years
flaxen tears
windows’ leaden pains watch
through filtration,
outside a masterful architect
knows what to flaunt
and faces inextricably connected faces
yet will not lay eyes upon themselves, the picture
others perceive or absorb
parallel lines walk nonexistent
inbetweens and perpendicular
magnetics arrange our blood
lines like grids that string stars
apart
so weave that picture faster
so it lasts and when your children
wait till the day those manics’
mechanics grow to overwhelm their
slipping gears
they will lay those faces face down
and the ninety degree angles will
puncture here
because you smiled and said cheese
doesn’t mean those thousand
words can bespoken from your mirror mouth
the two thousand mg. in your purse
will never make that date we made
the oxygen leaking out the holes
in your liver won’t tell me about
that friendship you forbade
or those bruises, they can’t converse
the stolen cash, the FBI calls,
the white powder and the post.
because for every g you,
because for every k you knock out
another thousand words
are left out
pleading, don’t
tell me anymore
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