August 10, 2011

stark raving avoidance of who I am(the bloodletting has begun)

me, myself, me, first blind to be me you see the many parts of me grub, writhed feet smile and beat and rub wordless space no I didn't race to invent the alphabet or do anything that stood care and attention more than perfect my clever monkey parlor tricks and honed sticks words dam all my somewheres that need to hide behind the many faces of love that I tear holes in the sky with, dreaming in dry whistles too past graveyards, as I often as I do in my soul's amontillado cask, there behind my mask, the faint whispers, my old joys echoing in the breeze of ease held against my long decay, against my night, against my bones rusted in my story, in my thinning nows and glory like Hansel and Gretel's winning subterfuge and twinning smiles that deluge a guise as much as seems wise along each turn I wind along the wind's swim back to where the water knows to breathe within fire and wait for each moment I've stoned in my sins' exhales, each memory I've sweetened past running fast to where the trees at last no longer hang shadows massed and shaped and classed and draped on all my exits bleeding

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