12.19.2009

(The Fog)

Obnubilation as the synapses cease fire 
Grey eyed and soggysloppy.
Water soluable slide to
someplace remote enough to
hide the echo.

Considerate deliberation sings her song,
not contrite admiration.
Seconds and thirds,
pushes and pulled through the kaleidoscope.
Fractal forgery, trapped lemmings on cliffs.
Seaside dive seems so sweet but for the breath of air
stolen at the pause to commit.


The man with the baby skin
weave a lie so deep
oceans cease to
drain the sands from the vision.
He tell you ya gonna be a star and then
sinks and slays your spirit so sweet
seeking not to supply the sickness with the solemness.


Big mouth secret sickness say over and over how ya gonna be somebody but...