it is these nights,
the minutes cozy up with the devil
the noses bleed with wide-eyed aspiration
the men sit in empty rooms with
large windows that look nowhere
and put their heads down on tables
covered in dust

breathe with me,
in, out, in, out
the respiration of city lights
coughing their rays on empty streets
while the metal men crawl the sidewalks
painting pictures with their veins
raccoon-eyed and possessed with hunger

and there is a dead lily that once sung me to sleep
there is an empty corridor in which i used to reside
there is a sun that will never know my name
and there is a flower that never grew

but it is these nights,
the glasses stay full until the queue of morning
the flames become immortal
the men solemnly speak
in their silence.

razorblade tricks
scraping bloodstained counters
receptors filled, vision blurred
flame induced euphoria
seeds of joy implode
happiness spurts, as a twitch of an eye
calmed, sedated,
as an ignited heart
doused in caress.
souls afloat evaporating oceans
these particles insufflated
by these nasal clouds.

red girls, red lipstick, crumbled wax paper
blue dotted brown fabric surrounding layers
of tissue. green men, spiky men, branchy bushes
impale hearts pale stringy reels of film.
records of purchase, pink eyed dreams
drink from pink stained vessels
communication electronically grey
wandered lost hopeless.
pressure through liquids, ripples through crevasses
hey sky her weather her dream
her soul steaming waters of life
evaporation and immaculation
silence through ignorance.
incoherently conscious of elder nights
retractable bars of chalk, knobs,
and levers and wires and rain.
an assumption previous creates present
incorrect. a nonsensical language,
we will regurgitate and prey upon,
pray as a woman doused in black.
indulging in gravity fully plump

scrape and mark these surfaces
as if your destruction belonged