Elevatine Night-Rate 252

by Crimbobuline

Posted to Poetry on 2003-03-23 11:35:00

Sturdy nuclear mail-train laced with heavy acid
Theorises new global positions for despondency.

Molecule of flesh, quantum note in world symphony,
Tumble from hand parched face searching water cubes in East

Nostril hyperbole, great big dreams for small child,
Romantic situation in the deathbed of civilisation.

Poet struggles on creating life through thickness,
Not callous but open to Saturn’s swing-time busk.

Careful stroll in minefield hands on belt, mescaline wait,
Vaulting glade buzzing, blessed be the future.

Lipid tongue mariri unifies chacruna dizzy spell blue forest,
Broken window, accident of Face, deceased in peace.

Angry starlight feigns midnight at noon in hightown,
Shallow minds with false endings conceal brevity.

Tired of this. No escape. Not wired for free things.
Beautiful things, hatred messiah’s first rite of passage.

Stranded. SO tired. dream after dream, and it seems intrinsically wrong to think as such.

Inside the fireflies breed slower, festering their greed
And flicking ash across painted marble carousel, again.

Quaint it seems to be misunderstood, or at least
To percieve oneself as forgotten.

Like some mircale heaped in an unused bath upstairs,
Leaking little passions down porcelain manacle.

How much longer. Why. What on EARTH for.
No matter. There is no matter.
It wouldn’t matter if there was, the truth would still be
That it
Simply
Doesn’t
Matter.

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