"Sun's rising on a choppy glare
Rain dropping acid bought up in the air
A distorted reality's now a necessity to be free."
-e.s.

life as a wallflower well spent in the barrel of a gun. carolina mornings breaking open with an impending doom, nature's chorus bleeding out fissured wounds, smoke is rising off the shallow well, peering back on georgia's shoulders, cant connect the pieces any more. failure hangs on a circle comes back around again singing unholy hymns talking loud holding hands, to m o r

put me on the fringe of lunacy where the ghosts and specters linger whispering their subtitles of crimson rot and ginger, whisper whisper, whisper whisper, ferried soul, moonlight in shards of silk the gown of a bride without a corpse. so the window is a lonely suitor. better to become rags and riches, decomposed into spindles and fibers woven with dexterity one atop the other, old hands, scars, black, yellow, blue, shale, seamy skin. swallowed whole by the frameless nightmare of the formation of words in a toothless mouth. unhinging of jaws. riptide eyes roll back behind my head. scratch, and screech, are not the same thing on the horizon of lunacy. become intrepreters of the sea after a night inside an open boat. it is the lament of the sunflower. only they know, all things less suited for the light. invent your misery they say. miss, misses, midnight. is an alliteration accordingly. clever. i am well aware. but you say where is the bottom of everything. i say at the the top of nothing. still justice remains epistemologial. as does life. hold close your sorrow. no one can care as much as you do. that should be your answer. so leave it at that. i have become a silent movie. a mime i mean. its more comical than sad. i didn't mean it to be. i wonder how much i say is a lie and how much is a relative truth. i have discovered no one wants to know you. i think i will remain asleep. dormant. dead. it suits me well. i slip to the place where sidewalks dont go, not where it ends. words words words are useful little things, i laugh a lot even sing. words words words are like a sack of gold, the more you have the more you know. so laugh too. so tell me if you read any lines both actual and fictional, on and inbetween. i wonder if there is an echo? hello
i do not know the measure of the words i even propose.