Wednesday, February 25, 2015

circuitry on the loose; leading time on
during the formative years. pretending i care,
but never bothering
to really think of it.

so vibrate particles,
itch-itch scratch that widow's peak;

twisted with the stick of gauze
to my fingertips,
crunching that elegance of a tulip's neck.

for the sake of introspection.

i now have no choice but to spill my guts.

(don't you follow suit, honey.)

there isn't a sound to disturb my silence,
without the bustling of people
being outdoors in earshot.

i am alone. i am happy.

i've got free-rule over an unnamed kingdom
made of pretend-pretend on my hands.

i imagine remarks on my efforts toward
supporting the cause-

"oh, chicken-shit, when you are all alone, you create
the best. you say beautiful
things. i am just so impressed."

i don't believe you, but i care that
you say so.

which, alongside, you
minimize your world,

a building burns.
out of its attic,
people jump.

decomposing colony- an obsession
with fertility

dragged into it, general relativity.