 |
Blur sores that breed and crawl around on one's chest cracks and stains in a pattern
Of geometric impossibilities the ashes and the razors that tore one's hallucinations
To shreds the clatter and the clamour melliflous as the nightingales' song
Oh where have I been where have I bled
Lungs filled with sulphur thrown open the doors that led to emptiness burned into
The retina an image of the gossamer textiles that separated two bodies fantasies
Of sleep ricochets within a parralellogram
Oh where have I been where have I bled
The art of contradiction
Of contraction of contortion of contusion of confusion of conclusion
|
 |
