Not quite complicated, not yet illustrated
but simple, less intricate stasis.
Beings without faces, bones, skin, dirty faces.
Races, car fundamentalists.
Not sure where this is headed
never positive, always malignant.
Tumor: a ton weighed out in time--
infinite, finite, infinity.
Suffrage, suffering,
collapsing breath impeding speech;
Speeches lost, wrought, rotting.
Still seeing things, beings, ghosts
haunting sleep and sleepless, insomnia-bruising
summer weather looming ellipsis.
Every metal beast driving down dusty highways
traffic, faltering lenses, crashes, crashing:
Flashes, flashing...lights, no camera, unseen action.
This is not patriotism--more or less hospitalization.
Years used up to write.
Words unwritten, words not spoken,
speech not designed for letters, for writing.
Waiting, withering, waters cold-
Ice and cold and snow.
Combination's breaking undertow
feet sunk deep in gravity-heavy sand of seaweed.
Shores still rotting red algae.
Crisp cut farm living. Grass stains, staining jeans
cheeks pink from boysenberries.
Or maybe blackberries. Black on black on white
and back to the finish line once again,
starting back I mean, forward in time.
Soul searching serves the purpose for practice.
Practicing to perfect a single being.
No being is perfect, lasting, or significant.
Time killed, wasted, drifting.
Gutters spilling, overflowing
heaven rain lose, leaking salt-- sorry,
sodium solvents sinking ships.
Not sailors, but blood-pumped lovers;
Plumbers weighing pros, cons, conveniences.
Nothing satiating, satisfying, lasting.
Still longing, not finding. Less than suffering, living, loving.
Finding discoveries, discovered. Uncovered secrets,
pacts, obsessions.
Romance in a single band; a bond that lasts.
Listening? Nothing lasts.
Tough guy?
Not tough, desperate. Desperation.
Like longing?
Not longing, rather, surviving under circumstances.
Such as?
Such as nothing, it's all in the penmanship.
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