mort mot juste

dezembro 18, 2008

20 absolute hours of consciousness

20 absolute hours of consciousness
lights still on in the horizon a sick pallete repeating blue, yellow, red
a car went by at four
a bell rang at five
a key turned at six
birds pecking eyes in the wind with blue, yellow red lights reflected
curtains refuse the wind gets in despite the window
the same familiar movement in a pretty frame
glasses blind passers-by so many people are about to wake up
i will certainly not wake up
it's been 20 hours
it's been 20 years
we are all dying of something
sleeping just numbs it

find a reason for the next 4

let us then smoke flowers
lighting the stem
burn beautifully at our noses
if i could be anything
the last time i saw anyone?
the day before i realized the night was a tiny baby rat
with yellow eyes and a drive
to survive? let us then pick earth up
and chew it and swallow it
streets are disgustingly organic metaphors like veins
shoot anything i like up the tar
they don't curl up, they don't dance
they don't move, not an inch:
let us then dig holes in the lake
and the artificial lake at the park will shoot up more flowers
the kind you can't smoke
and fish, the kind you can't really catch or eat
and poisonous weed to feed the aching sun
let us then raise our hands to catch some
of that substance comes from the clouds
which is supposed to make us see the light
through the lenses of our cameras
let us then scratch out our fingertips
so the slimy mass of seaweed that waits in the corner
with a smiling dirty look
can't get us I.D.d
it is dawn now
i can taste the dawn
it is blue
with red hot sprinkles
and everything inside it
hovers in flames of five different
colors soaking through and through with everything
that i couldn't tell

maria 4:39 AM 2 vociferando estavam

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