Industry and Radiation and the Livelihood of Humanity and it’s Occupants
You found them buried under wet leaves,
dead;
my fingernails were yellowed,
layered eighteen coats and
the chips were curiously building hearth.
I discovered I was sober
at 3 in the morning, so I
fell asleep and started dreaming revolutions,
industrial or otherwise.
Gears and cogs are stubborn and defiant.
I discovered the walls of my apartment
at 3 in the afternoon.
There are still oil marks and
leftover skin and
traces of blood and
they’re noticeable in a curious shape and
so I pulled at my fingernails.
Just realized that this completely switches perspectives out of nowhere. I’ve gotta fix that. I’ll edit it later on tonight.
And for a Little While I was Falling in Love
You’re a push over, kid:
soft-serve playing
hard-to-get;
except with the right glance and
a few pretty words
you melt all over your pretty
new sweater.
I’m different,
tough and hardened
(at the thought of you) and
I could handle it if
you got sick all over me;
All of me.
All about me.
About time and placement,
and convenient, unrecognized
distance.
It’s unfinished.
I kinda went space happy with this one.
Horses Tripping Up the Western Horizon (or Expansion)
Nine o’clock in the
summertime, take me
away
for now.
The cotton’s at your feet,
and your pupils are surfing the waves
of change.
Grasping for my
hair, one by one you pull
it out piece by bit
and I’m still this
far
from you.
Strength lies beyond the second strand.
I want the sun
to expand and expand and expand and
I want your tongue
to trace it;
like your pupils.
Upside down. 