Tuesday, September 13, 2005

incoherent

maybe i should just give up,
let everything just come and consume,
a compromise =ing a deafening heart
smoky, walking, lost,
gut my sideburns,
see the hairs already dead, die

the best won't keep ahead
languish in the summer sun,
dried tomatoes and brown grass
touch the lushness and ruin your thumbs
no such thing as existentialism

1+death, and rebirth, and a soul
causes a multiplicity of self actualization

the bamboo-esque blinds blow in the wind
the pages ripple
the water bubbles stagnantly
cough
watch your hair dry
my hands burn

suns and daughters and wives and
...... nothing
lower the volume
fork over the dumb on a spoon
drink from the Tiki man
pass under
give up.
gave up.
finale

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