Machine of Almosting

by on September 28, 2008 :: 0 comments

Mad genius sloped back flicker in the sun,
ethereal agent sacred clean
caught up in Spiritus Mundi machine.

Echo flapping desert bird wings,
slouching beast, lost, sing, sing
crestfallen desire.
Giant aching acre wide heartache of legend.
Simple fruition of a female golden mean
nothing more,
minus modern moviehouse adaptations.

Pratfall whirlwind blink violin whacked,
depressed on the eve of great depression,
he was depressed, obsessed.
Formed from seraphic anti-matter Goatee
I must already be
an impious version
of singular quantum implosion
safeguarded by the apathy
of everyday notions.

Vacillating melt-down mushroom cloud
dream believer circumstance unspoken,
strictly speaking, fate,
lips against the glass eye road to nowhere,
deserving of so much more.

Just want to grab true real words,
once held solitary in silent temples.
The idea of permanent impermanence like
circumventing the torn rent veil of night,
circumspect in circumstance
always circular.

Abrupt impromptu jagged batwing fancies,
dash about no worse than
clown groupies.

I want to blow out your candles,
make you forget,
inside the confines of a moment, with me.
Tell me you want me,
unfolding as just what it is,
eyeballs, everything unexpected.
Templar treasure comfort just thinking of you.
Upon the heads of.
Upon the heads of kings.

Marching band crackle fizz bear claws
2 anonymous door frame red roses in
burnt toast wind.

Do I drink excessively.
Am I. Am I. Am I.
I am chasing sudden autonomy weeping
letters in the snowy blood of
ancestors already sleeping.

Even now as the moment dim light silences,
chicken wire around my heart and
brainpan self-speaking into
the next simple breath,
and the one after that,
and after that.

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