Monday, April 13, 2015

shooting the shit on a sunday....something about hands

i was sitting linked in self  and hands
              babe like       fetal stye  in the midst of everything else
     the light       was somewhere      doing something
    i think        
when the thing i was thinking about was    the thing
   then    wasn't                   when seal sails dance among the chased ones
                   and there is always the other polsterguestic melancholy
in ledger because it must
i realized               in mid breath
             an ego     destroys what is loved in order to sleeve is own arms
fingers clench boast best of all
in spite of everything else

                              and the waiters are the simple?
or what is missed when eyes widen to a moments ferric passion
     but broken plates and missed direction               words out

like  argue means everything the color of drunk
               but with thought     (its complicated)
i thought      a breath taken means more      amidst everything else
     then fetal hands      thrown           the smoke staked fingers lost their calm

        and anger is la te da           be it     your self?

       later   i watched a movie about space    it felt like the same thing
and i thought i was thinking the whole time

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