Spitting fire back at me

and then spitting back onto my stomach,

by the time the embers reach me,

by the time she has saved me,

The night will already have betrayed me.

Even it didn’t make a whole lot of sense,

and we ultimately spent more than we made

Were multiplying ,

and were at least slightly coalesced.

AND were putting our best foot forward.

A nervous Minerva, all wrapped up in barbed wire.

kissed on it’s head,

a recipe for disaster

and utterly final , as we cant even wait for any of it to catch up.

The virus is up on the wall now,

a slithering piece of the wall, at this point .

Stop me if you’ve heard this before

you haven’t.

Moving and binding, moving and

bleeding.

Stealing and bobbing and weaving.

Rope-a-dope

Freek-a-leek.

Pulverizing all the green right the hell out of it

bombing the hell out of it

that’s what we call growth,

that’s what we call debt,

because were gonna have to buy some new speakers,

and tickets for the rest of the family.

Taken from me,

my arms and legs

and my lips.

They are just all empty sockets and flesh now.

Where the groundwater comes from

to where it ends up;

the reservoir,

any one really.

au revoir.

I did it to myself.

I emptied it myself

But at least I can still watch the same movie,

drink from the same wellspring.

It’s different listening with only one in one ear, though.

It’s different,

without solace.

It hits different, when OSHA gets involved, too.

When we easily shoulda coulda been sports writers,

the fire and spear.

the frog and the scorpion.

Reaching over our heads,

and lifting with our backs

and filling our cups.

The arrowhead,

pressed against my stomach,

threatening me, all the way from the top step on the ladder,

but at least it’s dignified in it’s approach,

before our cup runs empty,

and we decide to take off our uniform.

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!