||[Apr. 23rd, 2010|09:21 pm]
boom boom boom, beating drums (to fists, slam slam slam) tick tock, tick tock toe?|
- who are the glassless people that seen no reflection?
(besides the wavering outlines in river water, hardly catching before running away again, intangible and quick)
sometimes the people feel that what they see in the river, which is usually nothing, is how they look. ghost-spirits.
but they only ever think that when they're alone, and no one else is there to be so earthly bound - sometimes all they see is in their heads and clouds and patterns in stone polka-dots and moss.
sometimes they see rivers in the soft skin below their hands, below the bones of their wrists. (the veuns are stealing, winding through the body like a harness). sometimes they stand and let the wind take them away away away, at the tip of the mountain until the vertigo and the wind and they could fall and not realize it, gravity thieved away. there is so much dirt on the ground.
(nails turn into shells, shell creatures, and keep breaking because they can never build a home out of their hands and hide in it too, it just won't grow without cracking off)
they try with wood and blood and stone, and lick their wounds and think that if the rain won't get them then it might be worse - but warm. somehow the taste of the earth underneath them feels drier already, like foreshadowing. so they dig and dig with hands that will never be homes until they cannot hear the collective sigh of the earth.
twin rock formations
twisting mouths, snakes swallowing their mates
as if to keep them safe.
three three three sentences only.
(we heard you didn't dream.)
or even breath.)
(was it what you weren't looking for or were?)
ink stains on record players are never seen
(but i blotched a message there for you.)
(if you play the record you can't hear it though. i'm sorry.)
my wrists are hiding arrows.
or just bones.
i have a lot of them.
two hundred and six of them now.
so i have plenty to spare for you.
(we can share a skeleton if you promise promise promise me three times )
blink blink blink.
in them behind the slithering clockwork of DNA, all capitalized - it's just synapses.
and nothing in their mouths but space matter.
so in a kiss they're lost together.
like butting foreheads to the back of their necks where their other mouths lie.
still hiding in eternity.
later they're just ladybugs or butterflies or air or trees or numbers - abstract and unending.
that's alright too.
nothing really wants to make sense.
entropy entropy entropy, everything wants to be entropy.
even science says so, and it's the designated religion now.
oh my chemistry!
that event was big-bang-ly.
aha-ha what humor?
I wrote this in April 16, ahahaha.