Outskirts
Outlaw in an up-skirt land
Hands-free heavy heart in
Fallow field beseeching the
Soulshine to
take root and heal.
Sealed into self-abnegating cells
foresight is fearful.
A thousand black crow's feathers beat incessantly
throwing dust into lacerated lucidity.
Masochistic mutilation of potential.
Indulgence in conceptual commodity
Holds me
in check-mate,
Choking on instinct.
Cross-breeze etiquette:
Linger, but not last
Check-out in the gaze
out the window-
Looking out to look in.
Hop-skip-
a train-
and a bus
I'm in the gathered shape
(now absent of a
once-anchored Virgin.)
Mount my high-horse, and
disappear into the Rabbithole
Jolted back into the lockbox where
lights sneak in through cracks to
alert to an overall general awareness.
At length, most of what most-often occurs
feels as though most
anything that happens is
something that just
snaps and cracks,
always on the sneak attack
banishing confidence, who
always arrives much belated.
By then it is all a dirty dream I've forgotten to photograph...
I've a wicked lil' mood
writhing just beneath the surface
waiting
to bate your breath in
momentary notes of mischief
found outside the melancholy.
Race like rising strings to the streets,
slap ass streak, rushing in and out
eyeing sliding doors as a safehaven from
anything outside elevation.
Sighs and sunken fingertip to flesh,
fossilize second and day.
Seated
slipping backward feel like
Ridiculous rewind-
an end scene in a mechanized set
on-set soliloquy to shout of
(or taste) the moonlight.
Silence has lost its
last innocence in
prolonged incubation.
supposed purposes throw
smoke-screen escapes,
reinventing reality
one pre-fab at a time.
