10 back into a tail, and secret under capselsewise, the pitch tresses fall in lengths, and sweep along your spine. well here you are, short and fully fineto the busted ass or mouth(whichever structural orifice) is Castle Casa’smy b-vitamin piss-hued abodes front door. i asked if you enjoyed my cave, my mountain lair at dusk; we lingered awkwardly there, and trust-just like that, the hand that stitches us Infatuate sewed its first seam, seemingly, and clean. so we decided on a drive by icy city roads, by which we’d meet and greet our sun-starved arctic sea. though frost ridden, the streets were hardly treacherous, and we reached the place, and from its vantage, the cold made warm, when was pressed between our hearts, the world, and its cities, each and all dreaming their monolith dream. and we hardly talked- we smoked, and breathed, and were Simply Being Be, warm of each other despite cold and dark and snowy, our thoughts, like our vapour breaths mingled in the arms of trees, hung crystalline bejeweled the clergy robes, the snow sleeves that wear themselves white on barkskinthe sparse woods that ran off down the bluffs, down the cliffside in patches,
CIRQUE in woody winter throngs, their fingers pushing whispers from the edge of cliff and sea-no doubt gossip about her and me, in a language that’s by summer lush, verdant with the crush, the brush of leaves. “look, all inward human silence, but commotion, still. all distressed-all howling and stampede. crook in, past their breastbones, to hear the thing that beat with much ado. their heads in a tizzy, a tumult, out here among us, in the salt and dark, spun with rust and blue.” well, i can thank your mother for your presence. (and i certainly, certainly do). but, as for circumstance, there is One to whom i bend all credence toand by the ineffable presence, i have cursed and cried and spit and stamped and screamed and sobbedand then, have been given over to bouts of quietof seeming brain deathof seeming that my throat be throttled-