Oh life!
Memory is such sweet masturbation
And then Hiroshima of reality
Apocalypse of maturation!
I’m holding myself in disbelief.
How could you will this monstrosity of age?
Lo I shout to all those souls lost (including partly my own) in the infinite tombs of man! There is a wind of senses, a potential symphony of mutuality
And in my own grave, I find reminder
The dashboard of my e-320 still humming
Utopia yellow backlit
Lagging monotones and tar smeared toes curling
Like saccharine fruits of ignorance
Sympathetic illusions of eternity
Oceans of bare skin in spring seasons, a cacophony of clanking car doors
Through our lurid windshield the same manses blurred in summering mist
Endless white winters heaping us in
People always detracting, looming
Creeping and calling us home.
We running from peoples eyes
Hiding in groves and tasting the air
Torn from dream states
By the observations of reality
To think other humans were then so unthinkable an intrusion!
Undoing the static love of Hendrix
Sucking the smoke of contentedness into zero
Weeks and weeks of scattering legs
Beating down pitch roads
Beside me pulsing of fresh laundry and sweat
Asking simple curious questions
I would answer again
With such bursting energy
