Night

The twist of lip on lip
all the plans laid, up
-ended and remade
this darkness belies
more, irregardless of
what went out before.

So sore, from riding
the riding crop. Things
long held reconsidered
and the long lines are
stopt and they meander
around all impediments.

How to find what needs
all the finding. How old
friends, how old decisions
in this new light have grown
dimmer. How new friends
with bottle blonde hair

have shone brighter on
the horizions of each night.

Missing Out

—can't help but feel rejected
by non-acceptance of small
and subtle things that keep
all meaning. Is tired of having
heard: "Be strong, be
patient." I'm sick of it.

The waking up with twinge,
the wind, somehow making it
past window (where're the holes?)

This quotient is ouroboros of inanity,
that snake is decollaged and gold
covered


is disappointed but just
because of coming prepared
and missing out.

Pax

This violence between us,
I'll make it go faster. Wish
for the pulled hair, sound
of optical drive-arm broken.
The air made up of some
heavy gas that's invisible.

Insufferable pax thats
between us when soaked
and the ax hanging over
your four-poster bed when
I'm in it.