April 7, 2007
-
dancing with the frogs, singing with the locusts
______________
i am dragged to the edge of the bed and the red light is switched on with a click.
blurred vision. unaware of any name or precise face.
jersey orange sheets…blood stained to a near-massacre state. lying in the puddle.
i am the first, last. twitching and pulling and ripping….sweat.
shapes designed in mourning color hung in the air behind him….my eyes shut tight. white knuckles.
this is going to be april as well?
______________
you.
?
you.
wow…
you.
of course….
you
you
you
you.
no…..
you………____________
drown down drown….all is drowned.
i am downed and cannot press hands to earphones hard enough. it’s given up much much too easily, i understand. there is nothing like the fright felt when my phone starts to vibrate. even the owl can’t help but jump. the crow- well, he doesn’t do much besides peak out behind poppies and blossoms.
sometimes, with lids down, i can feel their eyes. this is worse than death.
black ribbons tied on antennas. i’m gonna study leonard cohen to the enths. and then ….waits. i am coming to realize there really is something basically wrong. what it is, i cannot comprehend as of now. maybe….umm….
addition: screaming, whistling. therefore, i’ve: breathing, whipping, screaming, whistling
there is nothing comparable to being alone.
