Friday, February 3, 2012

Day 6

wouldn’t you rather sink sometimes,
darken down deep roads and
gain black tinged dreams with every
pulse of life? To sleep and gradually gain
sight, like colour dripped, filtered, smeared, and feared
trickled down
to sightless creatures,
beautiful, made of shadows
and thirsty for nothing?

Of course bottles emptied would help you
and of course
would be enhanced by
smoked guns and
sandy chambers,
cracked and emptied into
store windows and grey
apartments- Like officers of the law, we sit in silence and
all the candlelit crimes the emptiness perpetrates,
skewed and bearded his smile is a
kaleidoscope built from plastic
paper, constructed in classrooms and brought to life in
tossed slumbers, and the worst thing is he doesn’t exist.
but he figured he wouldn’t like to sink all the time,
but the times he was real he wanted to be
artificial, and whenever
he shot synthetic plastic into his
head he nearly died, crumpled like a standup doll
against pillars-

caught in a flux, drowned and sunk in nothing

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