Wednesday, October 10, 2007

You look great when I'm high.

Close the door,
turn the lamp down low,
light a smoke,
pour yourself a whiskey.

It's midnight.

When every wish,
is thrown away,
on the thought
of you,
dreaming of me.


Oh man, oh baby, oh darlin', oh son -
last night I let the maudlin
one last time,
so that this fine fucking day,
I could feel the sun on my skin,
lips hotter than thou,
embrace of a mother,
lion-like father,
video lover -
fuck me, fuck me, fuck you.



So I went up to the country, stayed with a thousand ghosts in an abandoned brick mansion in the middle of yesterday. I saw a shooting star, but I didn't have a wish. I no longer need a wish, I no longer wish that I had a wish. Now - the days are longer and though I spasm and shoot from time to time - electric jism - a spoof of intimacy - when it comes over me - I let the music take me when I would have let them - and the ice that melts in the soul when at the peak the whole thing soars - that's so fucking beautiful - and it's a one man thing which cannot be shared - how your sadness melted and turn to rivers which washed down the inside of your heart and began to give life to the green possibilities of tomorrow.


This half arsed
poetry shit is

You can do what
you want.

As long as you


The Truth is a warm, clear Spring day...and from it - you can see for fucking miles.

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