one-handed perspectives and interesting
parallels drawn across the parallels of your tired
wrists reveal bankrupt resolutions and ordinary images that secretly
do away with your motivated and intentional
motives and intentions
...and while you questionably broaden your concepts with
words from your covered eyes, I sit on the ground
and cough up my heart into the safeways of your configured legs.
lights melt as you and I watch the trees form.
we listen to words without sound so softly out
of soft lips, and without sure feelings
we quietly walk into blizzards of objections and new extensions
resolutions counter-act theories upon this unclear glass table,
it makes sense, it makes comfort and
while i lay up and you lay down,
I assemble myself accordingly to fit
your book of directions.
for now, in this abstracted canvas of distortion....
lets sit
lets stay
hip to hip on this broken fence of executed decisions,
and watch our worlds crumble around us.
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1 comment:
why wait through the falling oranges and reds of the end? in a fast paced world of tivo and such, could one surely not find the pirated climax somewhere online? ours is the story of one thousand and seven other stories before us...all the same cliche of life imitating art imitating life.
truth be told, i dont give a fuck if its been done a thousand and eleven times before me, i want to see whats next in all its seconds and minutes and hours and so forth, as fast forwarding is just instant gratification and manifestations of our evolution to nothing but whats next. whats so bad about right now?
i like it.
a lot.
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