Saturday, March 26, 2016

don't be so drastic, the forest
is that which lay

in god's enormous hands
you can't
paint
god's beloved forest
in one night
of course it's going to take forever
because you feel like shit

i don't think i want to be asleep nor do i
want to walk through the waking life.
i learn witchcraft, get  a real hang
on pendulum spells.

there is an armor i wear
eating away at me.
it want to live inside my body
as mold. it wants me to suffer slowly.

for without the languishing, what is suffering? it is not.

my hands are trying to gently capture butterflies
in my terranium filled with my mold. my hands
forgot themselves. it's a dream

about elementary school, except fantastical.
upon waking up, i'm unsure wherefore i have the shit
that's hanging on my walls. none of these
things mean anything to me.
change them.
change. change them.
change them.
change them.