Sunday, March 6, 2016

Cough


Tune
Flies
come regularly
the blue
of their
veins
grows misty
in the beacons
slice
slice
there is
no real beauty
beyond
these walls
we open
pits
of passive
make believe
to fuel
our remedies
there the waters
run deep

He
he almost
ran
west
towards her
he almost cast
down
his eyes
greeting upon
the small lines
in her face
beyond
soda pop
inside
lemon drops
open towards
the eyes
drifting
in the distance
of this
their story


kill
Empty
with the numbness of fall
I keep
her eyelashes
on the top step
they almost don't fit
anymore
their old words
pass over
the deep creeping
frogs of the bog
who lay down
and drift
high above
the heavy dust
of autumn
we carry
her death
bend to the weight
of the flowers

Moments
I made
this fate
it screams
at me
hello
from an
empty
hand
and I
cry
goodbye

Host
Gather
the glue
for wheels
unknown
we pass down
into the realms
of tomorrow
we pass into
infinity

Home
Bless
the water
inside
it fills
the fur
up towards
rims
of gas
the slow
eight minutes
pass
keep  the break
closed
full

cost
Crime
windows
down upon
the hall
makes the
smallest
things
struggle
forever