Saturday, August 15, 2015

fingers slipping


wrists of eternity. honestly, they were dug into. a secret
place was in great need of being found, rescued,

raped, kidnapped, and colonized,

until only the pulse was felt.
when it was all that was left, it hit the people
with the entranced slipping fingers

that they never felt it before.

it was a pulse indeed. there wasn't anything wrong with it.
it spoke with the beating heart of the earth forest.

your primate descendant forgot again, and now

remembers- allow them to pray (however the fuck
a prayer doesn't feel awkward).

on heaven and earth, daily bread, in jesus' name.

i dare to live the dreams older than jesus. i dare
to live the dreams of the oldest primates

ever. ever

i dare to be afraid of myself. i'm too
in love with the falsity of my face- it is a beautiful face. 

i've been hunting on my own. my parents
died a while ago. this behavior

is unacceptable. rape. rape. don't touch me. rape.
help me.

no, rape me. no, don't. help me.

the bark to bare- twisting veins,
adapting with sun movements.

storm-allowance, heave heave heave, throw. a 
sedimentary erosion. storm.
the storm is the storm. it's about

the chances of getting hit by lightning; the chances
of winning the lottery. there are chances

of the chicken crossing the road. anything
is possible,

comforting my blood-flow, that

of the canopy- my body. it digs holes
and cools off in them.

buildings. square-shaped houses. square-shaped
people. their
square-shaped faces. their commonalities.

their crops, bountiful or not. rainbows
strolling among clouds.

clouds give into the needs
of any old animal.