Yikes shit

Between the words of many and mine

canyons filled with puddles of meaning


Culled and strained and pored poured over

You don’t care, though. You don’t care.


Scabbard, bone dry, knuckled through

You hit it over and over again


As if this crater spackled over

Were not an exhibit to your craze.


This lack makes you not lacking in man

Lies do, though. I’m not an infant here.


If I opened a box of shimmering jewels

Meaning would swirl right off of this page.


Through the heaviness of perception I trudge back to my bed

A mattress filled with animals nameless

Balls thrown up and down each eye to follow

Like a cat with a broken tail.

I’m fine, I think and I know it’s the truth

Yet some black spot keeps hurting to look

I had forgotten about that book

It is too filled with absolute whiteness.


Leave a comment

No comments yet.

Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s