the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Retrospection Brings Imperfections

Of becoming
Of loving
Of strumming
Of calling
Of waiting
Of hating this very direction,
Feeling guilty with a kiss
At the end of the page.

Taste the inky comfort
And see how long it lasts:
Grapefruit flavored accuracy,
Picked precociously,
Obnoxiously unstemmed
And condemned to damnation
Of permanent past,
Until words dissolve in citrus
And cannot say what this is.
And wouldn't dare to tell,
But wince and of course misses
A subject-meaning kind of hell.

Repetition comes in three's
And gets it on its knees...
Just sleep when it pleases,
Because some things never change.
Audibles are fixed to dates,
Dreams will always overtake
And make baggage of past.
Leprous unmeaning, but needing,
Bleeding out impurities
To see that there's no purity.
Dare to mention stability?
This story is a window;
Dry rain packaged in keys,
By which each square is dressed.
This sickness treatment's more or less
Of pictures, words, and to confess,
But painter without patroness
Is more or less directionless.

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