Elephants in Lion Skins

Nowhere. That I can think of.

Poor diseases too long healed. The sports car in his pants shifting gears. Sober engines talking like drunks. Wherever they go. Pretending to care. about helpless ken dolls searching for their penises. Amongst so many dead gods.

If one word could matter that much. Dead jeans attracting thighs too swollen to fit. Leave us alone. Wait for the bookstore. The signing of wasted stories. I've told so many times. The dissection of assholes under microscopes to accurate. Little wolves blowing down big houses.

Absent piglets.

Fail the tongue. Sour darts strike the bulls eye in the bleats of dying lambs. Circumstance evolves. Weighing the blood against the bandages. Long shots. Cold bluffs. Still to be determined.

Lovers. Carbons of dead skin. Old cameras. Still waiting on the negatives to develop.

Lies we should have, but will never tell.

Time. An avalanche of people. Moments. I wish I could remember. Or otherwise prove that I've forgotten.

The hour is my nemesis. In this trail of fragments I can no longer assemble.

The leopard looks. Find its skin on he ass of the elephant. Nothing to regret or to save.

Ghosts too stubborn to argue with.