Monday, April 26, 2010
I'LL LIVE AND DIE WITH DUMB IDEAS
This monster among me,
Opens my life and it's generally unprotected sex.
Nothing here matters but cartoonishly violent feet.
The supervillian's very hands-on with my spunk and its pope.
I think of night sky as a fossil.
Now in jail for a native country,
Glass milk rockclimbs anonymous conception.
My shadow has the potential of pulling itself off.
To be dead goes by one name.
I think year-round that people are renamed fish
Or garbage from the gore of imploded stars.