Secular ghosts radiate phosphorescent ennui medication.
Topsy turvy triumph,
get-up-and-go giggles in the upside down.
On the beach amidst tidal serendipity, through impetuous hours and days, time is measured by endurance, and friendships sustain within their being.
Look into my eyes
Big Boy, and read my thoughts; just don’t pee on your shoes.
Rough sleeper, pummeled by the poor timing of bad luck bounces; knocked undead, surrendered to the futile fates: options gone, hope gone, faith gone, dignity gone, illusions shattered into shards of turmoil in the absence of affection and play, against the hardened grime of invisibility.
With glassy-eyed resistance to speed,
nostalgic, not ancient, she clutches her childhood ideals, while a flurry of long distance messages broadcast over time. Her past drops, kissing her innocence like the first falling snow in winter. Raw bone and cinderblock cradle where she becomes apart; she falters between home and the impersonal, grasping false security, as she falls away, away, long distance message far away; falling into the life of indecipherable messages hexed by cupidity and charm; against the hope that her life is not in vain; while she awaits inevitable change.
Duck into the secular church of imminent oblivion; drink deep, drown the Blue Devil, play the pleasure trick, and watch your ingenuity blur. If you can. Cash in, bleed out, retreat into the grandiose unclarity of your uniqueness, while you chase the love unconditional that you’ll never know.
Skull slang radiation through a four flush brain mist, cool blue mosaic of bone schematics. Soul cockpit of a twittering machine, made visible, sports the question: what the fuck am I doing here?