when
given a certainty
it
is given as absolute
you
tango with their truth
but
then you sleuth,
“if
no elbows should be on the table
that
should include elbow macaroni”
then
comes their clarifications
and
all you can think
“but
that’s exactly what i’m saying
all
things are relative”
*
staring
at the level lines
stripped
of all the trappings
that
tether to the who
which
is supposed to be you
i’m
only experiencing a dimension of me
enjoying
the music i really love
without
critical critiques
of
the kind of freak
who
would want that on their playlist
*
no
kiss, a remiss
absence
of bliss
face
caress
queen’s
behest
i
pass the test
for
this semester
then
fester in the forgotten face
i’ve
tried to replace
but
subtle changes do not erase
the
memories of you
*
clouds
disperse
abandoning
their roll
as
the sun’s hearse
i’m
not well versed
in
the victimology
of
sunshine visions
i
lack precision
in
the preparation
of
finding a point
*
i
try to talk to you
if
the night sky is black
and
the morning sky blue
we
are two separate hues
trying
to dilute the other
the
dawn and dusk
have
always seemed
like
the moment when
two
hands are letting go
at
first so slow
then
sudden release
a
decrease
leaving
no crease
no
reminder
this
is how you’ll find her
and
me
separate
but un-equal
in
our abilities to be
the
hue everyone enjoys
nighttime
ploy
or
the day’s divinity
*
butterflies
pinned
lepidopterology
their
names like numbers
underneath
nothing
to bequeath
beyond
the frail beauty
of
dead things
have
you ever been in a butterfly net
admired
by an expert on you
kept
alive so you can die
and
become part of their collection
there
can be no insurrection
if
they’re all dead
*
let
me hide my hatred
in
words of polished stone
i
am not alone
i
am here with myself
dancing
in mirrors of disgust
if
i must
i
can wipe the glass clean
but
it will not enhance
the
reflection of forwards eyes
can
you guess who i most despise
you
cannot compromise
when
you have no wafers to break
and
pass around the table
*
morning
fable
is
morning able
to
acclimate me
without
the memories
of
my dreams
i
sift through my playlist
select
send me an angel
and
watch the clouds drift
without
any control over their condition
i
cannot predict what the clouds
will
do next
if
the clouds have no control
and
don’t know
than
how can i
the
sun may not be solid
but
its solidarity
is
in the clouds
the
sun bathing crowds
the
virgins sacrificed to a star
that
doesn’t know we are here
no
amount of appeasement
will
stop the sun
from
sending us on the run
on
that day
when
there will be
nowhere
to hide
solar
suicide
will
provide
a
new heavens
a
new earth
giving
birth
to
a pluto
that
gets sucked into
its
hole of mystery
where
even time
loses
itself
becomes
something different
if
it even continues
to
exist at all
nothing
crawls
without
a destination
but
the motivating inclination
encounters
incisors
ready
to rip the throat out
scream
or shout
will
have no route
as
your vocal chords
drip
from the jaws
of
juxtaposition
a
condition of expectation
is
the most terminal of all
***
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