Underground Sounds, pt. 2
Well, anyway, maybe, somehow, somewhy, people expect too much to be seen.
she used to be dotted with little stars, you know.
dotted and crossed.
cut and dried.
deep fried in sunshine and showers
but now wilted, dipped in
melted chocolate
seasoned with flecks of sweet salinity
rolling
don’t look to her eyes or the way she’ll hide from a
glazen glare
(of a glaze or s - t - a - r - e)
she can’t view […]
amidst another bed of pummelled shells
the hours passed as grains and sands before
simply slipped; there was no grip to the past.
send your thoughts by wavelicked surf on shore.
must we always find our thoughts entwined at the point where whisps of being converge?
maybe there’ll never again be
another perfect sunrise gazed upon by tired eyes
maybe these thoughts should see
a notion that these entities might not quite be real
but the product of a percussively detailed dream
a squashed mesh in which this city lies, entangled
enraptured
caught in real seconds
and those touched by shuddering disbelief.
trapped on a shifting sand between two lands
unsure […]
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