give it a second thought

you’re hanging from loose limbs

 

you wrote

we spoke

inside we were friends

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Letting me think aloud all i can really feel is a buzz of anxiety, for a time when there might be some energy in my body. I sit like a fucking turd on pavement. just shiny and useless, and the shine is an ugly one.

a muster of sound through the cracks of the wall

the bus deteriorating in the back of the room

a fog rose up before our splintered lids

and they opened to vaporize

you talk

you continue to talk

rambling like a roll of toilet-paper

the smell as foul as the colorful bad breaths of all the deranged

they breath insanity, and it smells like rotting wood

excuse me but your mouth is eroding my attention span

 

you talk,

your mouth is a cave of words so alone

they have to multiply with each other for warmth

a flourish of vines through the shocks of crack in your skull

a dent in your terms of reality

 

I ate them just as you did

And here I am. I am sane

 

A forest for spiking the truths in our brains

A lake to dip in our worldly remains

 

I’d spin for a trimming of ethereal glands

But the wetness of nature has wrinkled my hands

 

Tomorrow I’ll trundle myself in the winds

And blast out like a web, to foreshadow my tact

Squint, ocean room, for a taste of pulp

And I’ll breathe you in till my ribs have collapsed

INDIA

This is a storm.. fat droplets of rain soaking into Earth’s socks

a breeze of oddities and a shape in a cage with imploding extremities

the pandemonium that is audible and visible and tactile

let the oceans wash up on this one pointed shore

chaos that sprung from some laid back fetuses

with the creativity of super Nature in their every pore

This air that is jostling spice and decay

I sat under a tree and looked up at you

somewhere amidst the scenic sway

you showed me India, I thought I knew

But how did you ever make her so loud?

How did you make her crooked legs walk so proud?

And Cow,

a shabby torn blanket was tossed over your pious bones

you walk like a shepherd, but you’re no more than a dysfunctional traffic cone.

Singapore

Humanity spread

A slab of mall with a sprinkle of rules

on bread.

hapless BLOW OVER

probe, the hellions cry

peculiar like moths sewn to make a lampshade

their mouths are hanging under their eyes
with all the same sorrow they formerly bade
a myriad of flowers blooming hung over
blasting their heads to pearls and studs
break out of your storms like beads of rain
sing strings of gossamer sin to stay sane

shame

Where will you usher me?

If I stretch my rawboned fingers towards you

Let my teeth rattle in the cold following your maneuver

Where will you steer me?

you sit in this cold stone cabinet with hemp around your neck

And the cold pricks you pores

I stand underneath a dome of broken body parts

All swinging and swaying with the fragmentary incompletion of humanity

What floorboards hold up your weight that you haven’t broken your neck yet?

The fur on your back is all standing up and your tail is between your hind legs

I called for a name that matched your face

but only found embarrassment and disgrace

one by one

One by one from first to last you’ll drop like flies

and rot and fester under all those lies

like storm rain soaking through your boneless thighs

folded underneath the ever-swaying skies

Hard-wrapped coiling foils, sororal menstrual stains

selfish flints of altruistic bhang flames in vain

Cold sore and acid licked and frozen chained

to cock and hen’s most mere myopic bane

jittery song to koleidoscope’s framed breath

kleptocracy storming a global warning of theft

hard and soiled and clung to what ready’s left

to blow our souls

out of our skulls

and whittle beds of death