.

There was supposed to be a bond

TIGHT
And it was called music,
.
There should have never been any question
That we’d have something to give each other
And it was from our souls,
It was a gold-dust
.
A deep understand that the most sophisticated animals
Make night time tabernacle
Out of the day

Chances are,

All that action afforded you delusional thought tendencies,
Realms and tropes in which everything is fun,
.
You stand within shapeshifting summits
Making bearable
What shouldn’t be…
.
And time’s beaming just
Cloaks the mind’s avatar
In empty shavings of dreams,
Necklaces of false hope,
And you ride further from promise.

There it is,

The pulping light again,
As you put your face up
.
And ask what it’s all worth,
Life on this planet when
You can threaten without even trying,
When you’re measured by your potential
To unintentionally harm others,
Take from them things they think they need.

You sit there with them on your mind,

The habits,
And maybe you were just
Channeled into a room with them,
You were sewn
.
Through
Many a room,
In the land of the free,
And now it’s in your eyes
You’re just
.
Like
Everyone else, it’s
Lunging desperation
At the
.
Sight of any human being,
At any interaction, all to
Bequeath yourself
The secret,
.
All toward
Avoidance, the avoidance
Of this situation, sitting here
With them on your mind.

Sometimes I wake up and think,

All of this is so foreign,
How can anything
Ever be made,
.
How could it be but by force
When to know any one thing
Beyond a shadow of a doubt
Walking by the river
But being glimpsed
By mortality like a cutting talon
Is so impossible.

My juiced melons

Are
Being
Translated
.
Right now
On the other side of the world
To bounce
Off a bridge in
Cinematic Chicago,
Destroyed.

I’d like

To earn a meal
And beer table,
Airports well
Lit for people
Who engorge happiness.

You expand yourself OVER the rainstorms,

Which is how you learn to live in the sunnies,
And yet
Bequeathed on land with no timber,
.
Life is a continuing spreading of advantageons,
Which are deceptive to others around you
With whom you engage in battle
In order to live most fully.

She gives me a path back to humanity,

And with her respect I see how I can respect myself,
Painting forests or just watching time,
And the time clocks shine down on us
Granting the knowledge that there will be smiles
To feed our true selves, for when we get hungry.

We woke up today, and all of a sudden, people could no longer be swayed by mind control. It happened by our innards, too, our inner cataloguings of the noise the garbage truck made as it passed by, of the pallor of our aging mother as she rested her head back, in her night gown, in the dim light.

So we were fully coherent. And with this, came a humility. It was dark, in a way. It was like all of the talk shows got turned down. The finger pointed inward.
I woke up wanting to buy opium. I walked down the street to the cafe where my guy usually hangs out, and I burned a hole through this poor venue maintenance guy. I looked up at the buildings, and knew that the sun was poring in on all the rock and roll artists of time, like they still had something in them inexpressible, their thoughts were stacked up in their lake cottages like hermitage cloaks to condense in the day. Everybody was now like porcelain, though, they’d already been broken by America. Above the day loomed thoughts of G.I.’s, little green men hard as a rock marching though desert.
I saw my friend sitting over in the corner table. He looked a little eager, but worried. He had this black girl with her, just a friend, or more than a friend, I wasn’t really concerned. We all end up running back into each other again and again, and again, nowadays.
“Whassup, man,” he said.
“Hey. What’s the good word.”
“Just chillin’,” he said, smiling and shrugging, like any true salesman would. Three out of the five people in the cafe within earshot grew suspicious of us, and of the other two, one had on earphones, the other, well, we’ll never see them again, now will we.
“Yo what was up with that black stuff?” I asked.
“Haha,” he laughed, pretending like I was making a joke. “Totally.”
“You know how to reach me,” I said, and left. It was another sunny day. Too good to be true.
And to think about it, it was really good to not be in school anymore. I’m talking about high school. I’m not talking about college, because I don’t remember any of college.
I thought of how it was in other towns. In Philadelphia, there were little men who looked like Danny Devito, buying periodicals at the street smoke shops. In Chicago, on the north side or in Hyde Park, there were so many smiling hot girls, it was ridiculous, it was like Puerto freakin’ Vallarta, except they had clothes on. At least for now. Eh, whatever. With enough charisma, discipline, you can coax the truth out of the large, buxom babe who’s always working at the cafe. Every night she plays shoot-em-up video games by herself, and when you look at her with your manic, homicidal eyes, her face opens up a little bit and gains hue, and everything is forgiven in the manic insanity of the moment.