capable of bleeding

when i draw it comes out in lines and circles

dug in like sutra and smelling of zinc

   poses touching    too close for corners

making it hard to counter 

        i often wonder what messages rest on walls 

not seen                      since corks plugged everything

               and stones were thought to be alive

that is        capable of bleeding 

as he does

a time where myths were stories told by tellers of stories

                           

                                                                                         that had no other plans

you take it how you can    and seem to know the difference  

a time where sandbags of filth mags where burnet then read
 
     the time before pockets of madness
grew rockets
                      that blister                   fire paper at random
seeding further the pleasure of death

the bourbon rests in front of contacts    lying beneath the only things

i know                         bought online

the difference between sent and found