It seems like the sun is in my eyes more often

now than ever.

I’ll leave behind so many mineral deposits you’ll likely lose count,

and so many tar pits, you’ll eventually dig your feet in…

you goddamn alchemist.

Coupled with that winning hand that I flopped on the river, I can’t lose.

The tarot and the smoke,

they find me.

Through the second and third degrees and even the intermission.

The wind follows me outside as well

and ultimately blows me away.

Deep scars

embers so deep they cant be picked out like splinters,

can’t be stored in the cabinet,

they are silent

they are gone.

and in the video game now

part of it..

They are the arbiters,

part of the show,

they have become them,

with a beautiful view of the valleys,

and the pulleys,

the levers;

take not3.

hedge your b3ts.

Ledgers.

Lepers.

The Dodgers.

That knob will tour no further, you fighter.

the band will turn no further – says the manager.

He’s got his reasons.

It’s time to forget,

its time to quiver

It’s time to scream:

Reach for the

platinum quills

Reach for the silver,

Reach for the

Palladium,

when the time comes.

Stained glass on the way in

a beacon in the fog,

that gray smoke that burns your eyes

and follows you wherever you sit.

and indeed , it’s capped off by the wind,

Walking ,

drinking

no dancing to pump and circumstance ;

Turning the tables tassle.

He’s raving now,

raving mad;;;;

left to simmer,

left to choke

Glowing , and then retreating ,

my feet are implacably warm.

Running,

churning

and the bark of the trees peels back as we fly by.

The paint from the walls chip as we slink around corners, lost in those hallways,

falling in on us,

sweating as were digging up our bones,

and breathing through my nose;

and it has nothing to do with the heat.

it has nothing to do with my dreams.

It’s chemtrails when we fly too high.

It’s contours when you touch me just right,

A good ole’ slash and burn oughta at least increase the sightline,

some listless violence,

just an exhibition;

Shave off the top of that hill,

because we don’t necessarily need mountains down here anyways.

Just like the bottom of the door wears down the floor beneath it

every time it opens and closes,

fanning the flames.

When we are coming, and going

providing just enough oxygen

just enough light

to be going,

to catch a glimpse of where everyone else is gathered,

on the sales floor

on the dance floor.

The calcium deposits between my teeth

nearly unreachable and bleeding when met with refusal,

met with retribution as you go to close the door,

close the treasure chest,

close your mouth.

Unquenchable as I go to slide my fingers out

and yet you still slammed it shut.

and while it was barely audible,

because your fingers are in my mouth now,

Hey my fingers are in there!

those ant lion traps fill up

nests?

There is no reason for polarity at this pint point ,

The falling rain inevitably reduces the internal temperature,

and it drowns out the dance music,

Alice DeeJay is no more;

despite that reunion tour

because were better off alone

Faith, no more,

….the award tour

better of alone,,,,

All those Midwest follies that I know next to nothing about:

Save the women and the children first,

but we still have to make sure Bruce Dern gets out alive ,

even if the lifeboats are full elbow to elbow

and we have to make sure we are wearing our full metal jacket.

and if that means he minds his business while he puts his on, when it comes to all of this

then so be it!

it’ll be just as epic as it was when it first came out!

Half way committed,

but I am cracking my neck less ,

however I am listening to those same number 1 songs,

am I really growing? because I still bite my fingernails

Am I glowing? because i still choke on everything

but they are catchy though,,,,,

Everything else ended up in the garbage though,,,,,,

and its all but an echo in in my left ear now ( your right)

Down my throat,,,,

and I cant turn it up any louder ( your right)

( its not a lyric)

everything else needed up in the garage

everyone ended up there…

half way there,,,

down my throat,,,,,,,,,,,,

but you saw this coming, right?

Pawing at the ground,

banging at the permafrost,

or the lack thereof;

Sticking my nose in it .

or lack thereof,

who I am

and its not necessarily Frost in this case

its not necessarily even through woods on a snowy evening

Upright and warm is what I am,

no sled dogs in sight, at this point.

and nothing but repeats on the big screen baby,

because even though I sometimes walk sideways;

baby I’m here to stay