I need a soul to look at. No stimulation stems from rocks. I enjoy my shadows. We dance together in dead streets. We like to hold hands and create tornadoes. In the hands of relation and this chaotic lifeless shapeless home.
Iridescent flesh
Oh iridescent flesh
what reveal you of me
oh moon eyes you never cast a blink
so nodding
accepting
the picture so loving
the picture of bristle fingertips
how high will you go to count
those of others those of mother’s
Oh patches of wild
you may never be read but all passes
all too soon starts anew
One hundred Lonely Years

One hundred lo lee years
is a trusted risk
diminished too quick
teasing taste of bliss
Preference

Birds

Bones

White noise
Bless I am on finger spawn
Electric trenches bathing my cervical
Back and fold I’m a circus; locomotive
Freedom brings Casanova, baby mothers, and virgin wings
Spirals of the world most foul
Dancing wolves who often howl

