retort to Glamis from Porciuncula
generic chp. 10
thoughts of succumbing to the poison of slow kill the truth imparted at the exit of the womb how with what today can we be expected to delay decay when systems continue to thrive on the dander of ignorance it’s becoming unbearable tick tock
will take her
during the given 72 hours she will unscrew the wings from her back and hope the breeze will take her
on the Vin it is recalled those summer nights high on poppy brown smiles and warmth
when in the past oh how she misses discovering the awe in the hand of God when the orange peel was made to dry in the sun
https://www.instagram.com/wordslessspoken7.0?igsh=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA==
generic chp. 9
the darkness is back i tripped my load was heavy and i trembled the darkness is there behind the curtains in my things in my mind the darkness cool calm and causing a vortex of loathing into my self the darkness i hear you but i’ve got to get up now i don’t want them to know
a man with wings on his nape
going slow like its some strategic necessity
no matter what you do
they come back at you
pitiful
yeah on your own
the way they talk about you
yeah
i might know what like…
although ive been right here
i see you world
but you don’t see me
my words clear as a bell
you can’t hear
look
here i am
see?
Las Diosas en Discurso
generic chp. 8
it’s the little poisons she thought as he spoke about trials foisted upon him as a child by the needs of selfishness and delirious desires of unbridled women his skin pocked with stab wounds stitched up in classic county hospital overworked student staff he groaned in self pity he’d forgotten why he was there in the first place we spoke for 23 minutes more then parted as patient and professional
Porciuncula perpetually assessing for needs part 8
intrusive
i have walked in the magic and slimy entrails of the night you can sniff the carnage reapered dreams collected bodies bought sold butchered put back whole on the cool objective table of community tax payer yet the sheen and cigarette scent of your rugged lips captures what is left of my imagination the face ive worn the whole day through with guilt rage pain and embarrassment in the pores cracks a useless smile thinking of our bottom halves entwined twisted and penetrated in a vortex of denial and after all of these years that calloused touch of your hand intrusive through the strands of my graying hair
generic chp. 7
words less spoken 