Tuesday, April 1, 2014
The Stars are Calling, Skin Sacks

 

See, your chemical warfare is no warfare I
Bend over the altar, shove 
My tongue into your daylight, finger
Your escape routes, 
The riffs and struts
On wireless maps, a participle medley from your breathing apparatus
Singing the Body Technology, a schizophrenia always giving back.
 
The way they watched me felt like love,
I said let me write you like love,
Let me write you like love’s fire.

But I missed the star guts crashing theGlobal Market ways,
Crushing me with its gentleman hands, eyes without a face.  
 
Every man is a symbol
Along the axis of Rorschach etchings.
I see your face again, the fluorescent light
Repeating my face back to me.  Echo chamber,
I learn so much in hiding, my electric nest cake.
Google Maps for the brains attached.  
 
In Real Life sexual dimensions hold it against us, 
Could not map us out of eleven dimensions.
They would just go on forever, smudging the details down,
Wearing us the fuck, most pleasantly, out.