cannibal
after november
blind
to not be numb
dream (four times)
forgetfulness
angel
first morning
laconic
drown
deep
maidenhead
milk
this
wake
dark blue
rotten scorpio
little v. flea
from me to you
exit
dry
the lines left behind
guilty
sever desire
falling slowly
esperando
dark spiral
sparkle
confetti
bodies pound beats
Is it
a trance you're in
which voluntarily
excludes me
(painlessly, without
words)
or do you wrench yourself
from each waking lifetime
drenched in hell's folly
upon your narcissistic
dysfunctional brain?
Do seared, etched images
burn caustic catechism
in your rank
musty memory
endlessly?
Or has life
Silently
moved
forward
in simplicity -
(without me?)
8/92