the atom growls. quiet and discontent. hungry and indifferent. a stranger in her bed. a Brutus in her cocktail. et tu in every sip. the murder is in the intent. not the conditions nor the results. the crime is committed long before the act takes place.
there were fingers on the storm. Small fists everywhere. As the weather moaned. And wept. And crept inside us. In cordial rapes and civiliQzed murders.
Her cheeks swollen with honey bees. Her lips full of hornets.
treble paths. follow passive soldiers. urgent actors in an empty experiment. the science teases. pleasure and pain intersecting. as they always have. the bustling traffic of flesh. quietly making progress. numbers like gods. drowning in the depths of their power.
suspicious flowers piss in their gardens. the chase resolves to the runner. the thunder listens for the wind. puzzle pieces fumbling with a broken image. time moves backward. from end to beginning. always has. we just mistook the maze for a map.
Saturday
10/27/2012 01:35:00 AM
Post a Comment