08-17-2020, 11:14 AM
Creosote evaporates on a Poussin equation of how light also evaporates in a rhythm.
The world seemed so malleable, a child playing with the red clay and water,
my hands red and wet and I knew not to wipe them on mom's towels.
All the moments have been murdered, watching wings flap, oscillation on dirty strips,
in their chaos of crossed "bones". The real man has an exoskeleton,
his death is a crushing to green and white ooze, but I want
to be pink, neglected, except for a desire that lives outside its thought.
But maybe, I want to live again, and again, churned into a meal
of clear plastic wings and sectioned eyes and simply moments of agony and moments without
so I understand the difference.
The world seemed so malleable, a child playing with the red clay and water,
my hands red and wet and I knew not to wipe them on mom's towels.
All the moments have been murdered, watching wings flap, oscillation on dirty strips,
in their chaos of crossed "bones". The real man has an exoskeleton,
his death is a crushing to green and white ooze, but I want
to be pink, neglected, except for a desire that lives outside its thought.
But maybe, I want to live again, and again, churned into a meal
of clear plastic wings and sectioned eyes and simply moments of agony and moments without
so I understand the difference.