under the floating,
quiet of lonely.
inside the broken,
my eyes have envy, i envy
their egos… i’m frozen.
this hammer of time
breaks motion: discoursing talk,
to write you away, change night day;
go fuck yourself… i mean, or, i’ll follow the sea, sail off
evil green vanity, to sunny happy lands.
how could it not be so, being you are you?
cantaloupe moonbeams… dreams
drifting around, all that stuff…
my self floating down… how
could it not work out, an exiled me?
drawn down to a lucifer sunset;
norse red rover viking ship, crammed with innocence; your body. my shame.
i’m cold in this sun; i’m
that warm thing out of your rib world
i’d touch like a tom boy; what you could have said.
i’m back to precocious, i have to jump the rainbow,
sail to a far off red land of native indians and nakne gutter…
swift bird of youth, you play,
a self of devotion;
swimming in dead bones, sunken reveries,
drowning in oceans.