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The art of taking notesThe pencil dropMore Like This
I have no need of you anymore
inside, the caustic blank
and an acerbic future
of grinning humanoid plant faces
clinging to and becoming machinery
There is a point at which you can become a light
sat there, your hollow reasoning the expression of skulls.
Could you have forgotten the truth?
All these automatons with prominent necks like belts of spiders
break us all
break us in different ways
it is in the breaking they find the hope
of more breaking
I was always just a box
a box with a screaming beetle in
the swinging rope bridge never close enough to catch
to lead me out of atomic bomb days but I heard you say there is a poin
Matthias...I'm homeMatthias…I'm homeMore Like This
In another life,
I dream of Chicago.
Where the white angels flutter their opiate dreams,
never mind the foggy bleeding.
In Arizona,
a horse shares my name.
When standing at the four corners
Of Van Burren, I sleep under neon stars
In my cardboard Kiva.
I play pool and frequent the dance halls
where men find their spirts.
Since you left me windy city,
I have wandered
The country a begger,
dining in dumpsters,
drinking my stolen Yaeger.
Stumbling down the streets
I spot an afro'd clad midget
sitting in wheelchair.
And I think you should know
I have a pistol and,
eight bullets, and
cancer, and
AIDS.
And I'm not a man
Sta.sh
