he can't do that he doesn't know
faint smoke being torn according to reports from
the horizon he brushes against and can't grasp
accumulated distress and fury
blue streaming gold
soft
undulating
cool seconds
a weight
breathable
current
possibility
of precarious & easy smiling
everything
possible is natural
it's
all
only nature
they
represent
nothing
there is
no people
no magic
they
pretend
she loves the rising road in a pit of a gut is a warm sun of shouting laughter
gripping the sky and stars swarming across a cresting grinning life her palm
opening her fist closing a shiver resisting her shins giggling in flapping matter
a thousand heads reflecting through her lights her wondering distinctly idle
he is being tightened by a reactionary defensive spasm
struggling to contain a bone-bitter rising from toxic marrow
aching and stinging with complacent idiocies of sluggish content
a mouth WiFied into clouds of mocking correct phrases
with violent light scouring presumptuous ranges impeding
hair irritating ears damp stench turning around a torso an arm feels it's own weight
chills and you realise fevers you can't what leave you your station give without permission
to me the face of authority is red even in pale industrial lighting and all banging echoes
