inmaterial
shackles
shackles round my ankles
chinese finger traps got my mind twisted to snap into
back flips and dog tricks,
find me lonesomely holding a lead holder
asking the paper to tell me what i'm thinking,
because i'm
broken into
shoes too well worn with holes in my soul.
i've got blisters on my fingers from writing nothings about things only i can see
too many blank faces feeding only off my inspiration
but I'm not conveying my truth in space
all i have for today is words.
and I'm a believer in words. tell me you're a man of your word and i'll
personally
incorporate you into my dictionary
until you prove yourself guilty or
unreliable
i can be that way to myself.
wake up self,
you have obligations
sleeping through another rem cycle
sleeping into that place where i ride my bicycle alongside you in the autumn time
when i didn't know what it was like to be fatherless at the age of nine
with your hands at your side
and your mother's trembling hands on your shoulders
bracing you for the days in which you look back at seas of halcyon dreams
that you dream you won't awaken from
that you dream you can walk into and live into
revivifying the morsel of life that has been dying all along
the moment i accept death,
i'll be out of here.
the moment i stop caring,
i'll be where i need to
be
hungry
facilities and materiality and shiny shoes that click across the concrete as the man within them pretends not to notice me
argentine. crooked teeth. beauty mark.
accent heavier that whippingg cream,
you're like the scummy aftertaste of something too sweet
too dulcet and saccharine and buried
deep inside my craving
embodying something i can't quite
unleash
an energy latent within me
that i can't find, so i try to fuck.
you teach me
push me nearer to the palpable
the actual
the ethereal.
inmaterial.