(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...

Drop // Dig

My little raphaelite-

Gentle soft sweet ache.

Same as the voice which

designated you soul entrustee, that

voice again beckons,ordering to

Drop everything and come to thee.

Feet a flurry and heart,

in hushed whispers, sings.

Come into the garden and

dig deep down into me,

seek asymmetrical physiology.

(Its right there.)

I wander

lost in living through you,

circulated in my journey.

Look around,

see through me,

speak to be.

Paint the wind

surging through my hair.

In through me,

stir of the winter floor,

my path emerges through the

overgrown skeleton keys.

See in me

intimate imitations of

thine idolatry.

Capture the sweet secrets

mine eyes speak t'thee as

sparks

inside moments of infinity.