We are infinity.
You see, we are the place where two parallel lines meet. We came from a different place. We come from different places entirely yet now we have aligned our minds, our souls, our everything's, so nicely.
Last night I saw two skywriters writing imaginary, dissolving clouds in the sky that started off as curves or something but then which eventually yielded to resemble a "vaginal entry".
What a disgusting euphemism, anyway if it was an entry then there was a permanent "sorry we're closed" sign hanging off the clit.
There isn't an exit.
If you hang on every word you are most likely going to fall from it- far and hard.
A car honks its horn because it read a sign that said to do so if you are lonely; a transient on the boulevard is witness to this- she tilts back her head and screams maniacally whilst grinning. Such a big, big grin.
It's so big and large that it makes me thirsty.
I kept being asked, repeatedly, the following: "Why did you come here? Why are you coming? What do you hope to accomplish from this visit?" And, all I can say is: "I just wish to inhale your exhaled breath more immediately. I mean, I just need to breathe in the air you've recently released. I need it to fill my body. I want new."
It's true. It's true, I do. I do, I do, I do- go on, toss some rice up in the sky and throw that bouquet towards those unhappy, drunken, single folks.
(Damn coronary nakedness; my heart feels exposed; somebody should remind it to "keep on those clothes").
You talk with me for a few hours while grackles steal tortilla chips from tables; you laugh. You laugh and your laugh is beautiful. I understand for the first time in my life what it must be like to be a mother or a father- so proud to hear your loud cackle at the grackle that got away with a snack chip. Your sides split from a distance which is long and violent and I sit back in my seat smiling as if I just witnessed your first wink or you standing on two feet.
Please bartender/doctor/mommy let me have a whiskey neat. Everything is messy.
The interior of my chest is bloody and the exterior is pimply and pale. Please Charlie (Parker) please let that sax wail until I black or pass out or vomit my empty stomach into this here garbage pail.
It only takes one nail. It takes about three rails.
The resiliency of my body is a mystery; it breaks and it breaks and if that weren't bad enough- it keeps on healing.
At least, we are infinity. At least, there is a faint beating inside of me. At least, I can hear- since I can't see- your lips smiling.
At least, at least, at least. Infinity.
You see, we are the place where two parallel lines meet. We came from a different place. We come from different places entirely yet now we have aligned our minds, our souls, our everything's, so nicely.
Last night I saw two skywriters writing imaginary, dissolving clouds in the sky that started off as curves or something but then which eventually yielded to resemble a "vaginal entry".
What a disgusting euphemism, anyway if it was an entry then there was a permanent "sorry we're closed" sign hanging off the clit.
There isn't an exit.
If you hang on every word you are most likely going to fall from it- far and hard.
A car honks its horn because it read a sign that said to do so if you are lonely; a transient on the boulevard is witness to this- she tilts back her head and screams maniacally whilst grinning. Such a big, big grin.
It's so big and large that it makes me thirsty.
I kept being asked, repeatedly, the following: "Why did you come here? Why are you coming? What do you hope to accomplish from this visit?" And, all I can say is: "I just wish to inhale your exhaled breath more immediately. I mean, I just need to breathe in the air you've recently released. I need it to fill my body. I want new."
It's true. It's true, I do. I do, I do, I do- go on, toss some rice up in the sky and throw that bouquet towards those unhappy, drunken, single folks.
(Damn coronary nakedness; my heart feels exposed; somebody should remind it to "keep on those clothes").
You talk with me for a few hours while grackles steal tortilla chips from tables; you laugh. You laugh and your laugh is beautiful. I understand for the first time in my life what it must be like to be a mother or a father- so proud to hear your loud cackle at the grackle that got away with a snack chip. Your sides split from a distance which is long and violent and I sit back in my seat smiling as if I just witnessed your first wink or you standing on two feet.
Please bartender/doctor/mommy let me have a whiskey neat. Everything is messy.
The interior of my chest is bloody and the exterior is pimply and pale. Please Charlie (Parker) please let that sax wail until I black or pass out or vomit my empty stomach into this here garbage pail.
It only takes one nail. It takes about three rails.
The resiliency of my body is a mystery; it breaks and it breaks and if that weren't bad enough- it keeps on healing.
At least, we are infinity. At least, there is a faint beating inside of me. At least, I can hear- since I can't see- your lips smiling.
At least, at least, at least. Infinity.
