"so..." and blood-lust drips at the door as she talks
"I guess it's time" and blood-lust chews at my ears
"to go upstairs." and blood-lust tangles my hair
And blood-lust leaves me draped here like a coat hanger, alligator skinned and snapping, with jaws poised to welcome your garments stripped and burned in the moment, over the bedside cliff. Backout, tumble, and climb pillows as clouds to your satellite heart, the veins-strings
the nerve leads-a lonely radio station upon a dead horizon in Arizona's sand trap
the bar the only blemish humanity can offer, outside the manicured lawns and furnished souls, outside all that
outside...
the heart-a trench.
There's a car alarm going off.
"You know in Berkeley-"
"-We have no sign of such systems,
ghost or not." And I fell to your shoulder blade, and dropped into blissful remorse to recount the things I'd lost.
Berkeley's only a variable. Could be Palestine, Cuba, Carthage, Babylon, or Denver. Could be another tower(oh no, oh god, the smoke I can't... I can't see my way out... Sophia, stay close, follow straight behind,
oh God, oh merciful God
Sophia! ohGodohGodoh
my
lord. Sophia? Here, clutch mommies hand
I-I don't know honey, just stay lo-
New York's spine falls flat_________lined__________)
or another Red Scare(the beats bleed for American mercy, here as always, there as never
in cloves of snow fortified Slavic Principalia,
hidden in snowgapped tracks from time to now,
or on a city corner in a still Chicago, still too terrified to rot
though the beat juice agitates it's
cleanliness.) or, God-forbid, another ****ing stock crisis. (a chromatic corpse waves from a window-sill, feat first)
Blood-lust of a kinder kind.
She's accounted for the collapse and is climbing my spine to jump again, so then I may catch her on the way down and follow suit. Spades, hearts, flushed, and waterproof. "I'm happy we haven't drown here" and
"I'm scared you're going to let me dry."
The middle ground was lost before we'd chosen sides.
I swallow. Bombs fall in Brooklyn. I swallow. Bombs fall in Japan. I swallow. Bombs fall in Brooklyn. I swallow. Bombs fall in Japan. I swallow Bombs fallin BRooklyn ISwallowbombsfallinjpanaiswallowbombsfallinbrookly niswallowbombsfallinjapaniswallowiswalllowiswallow
and my mouth is dry
I cough and wake. Your breast's been replaced by a pillow. I fear you're getting bored.