LOADING first full dance of romance blissed out mist of seance system sent a letter through the vents and hid away until it slipped by the feds “We had a terrible plan,” the office manager said, “An Oval opened could send the message better than last. no one would sense the event Central Intel Defense would exit left of the lens and then we close up the tubes are getting smaller The fluid’s getting hotter The ceiling’s turning rotten The meat has started falling The rain is full of toxins gutters come crash down on the beach That red wind glowing oddly That blue moon blowing softly Freeze, it's all unstable So let’s start leaving You won’t need feelings The tubes are getting smaller The fluid’s getting hotter The ceiling’s turning rotten The meat has started falling The rain is full of toxins gutters come crash down on me That red wind glowing oddly That blue moon blowing softly A fantasy, An odyssey, A Tuesday morning walk, you see just float away along the seed of dandelion honesty It’s all a game It’s all a phase It’s all an everlasting gaze You know the beast, You know the scenes, the enigmatic starts of things

clashing past the neon flash in coasting coastal clasping hard a splattered smear of oil spilled toward a sea, oh blessed manifold, its eerie gust aloft above the throws of loss, a tolid frost across the rosy cheeks of catastrophic pixels asked about a metaphysician simile of holy horror symphony in planets orbiting the song’s old verse of cursed voltage session soon the silent simulator sprints away toward sideways sidewalk, s a n d still drips through the night the s a n d still drips through the night.. …. walls keep moving in starlight growing oh so dim

mostly you’re just hoping that the landing will stick and under pressure would the moonlight ever sink through your ribs? while underneath the cracking tarmac earthworms shudder and coil, grateful rain crashed so profusely you could swim through the soil gentle boredom leaves its host a vacant, shocked silhouette and in the silence you can feel it though you’d like to forget that there’s a stirring in the forest and the birds are aware so while you’re choking on ceramic, armies gather and boast of how the mass they open fire on aren’t quite people but close you thought this tricky situation somehow vanished in smoke but your broken and your hopeless are tormented the most you wanted out, you wanted home, but a home’s no home no more. America, is this what you wanted? America, I wonder if it ought. America, can we purchase a solution? America, you are my fault. if they’re given just a minute to dismount from a boulder all the centipedes you sought can toss a brick from your shoulder and a movement is a movement if it’s force with direction shallow wade on through a frog pond is a private dissection upon learning that an absence is an error in program and an umbra is an outline that gives shape to its innards, perhaps focusing on questioning doubles gravity inward while a wormhole hides in scents and leaves your body in Torngat, but if the silly puppet and the red with desire wring a cloth above the highway in a torrent of fire then it’s fire that you’ll play with and the morning is steep, so watch for signals in your windows while the rest are asleep

only feet don't touch the ground screaming, hanging upside down every wave must feel the same and every evening tends to fall away

wait for the m to take me home where i can be myself in full where birds all sing inside my skull infinite burn in cortex coal a dreaming state a seedling bloom an obviously secret space a reeling gait a breezy day an upside down cross to the face a ceiling fan electric lamp i’ll find myself in my own hands pining for needling for when i’m alone the lanterns glow, the magick flows the honey pours, the air is gold what’s in my head it can't be sold when i’m alone watching buildings passing by and not a thought goes through my mind staring past a lonesome sky framed by cement and rails that grind

the full Moon is bright and the water is cool sinking lower and lower through the strawberry pool and you feel just like a child when the mourning dove sings puts you back in your bedroom, where your world filled with dreams like how if time is a construct, the messages beam out from one end of your hand to endlessly see the tower’s power is down, all the stars coming out and we’re closer and closer to edge of the clouds come and sit by the lake where the waves will soothe ache yet it may feel the same if you pass through the planes when you die will you wake up again in your bed? will the stars look the same after death? anyway, will you know that it happened the morning you wake? will you panic and race back to fix your mistakes? in the process you process the means and the ways in which you found yourself here in the very first place...

big money rings above the buildings tonight the only odious occurrence in sight lies in the belly aching Lonely despite the occluding loom of the almost dark.