wrote this on one of those nights where i had too much on my mind to sleep...


The television
Has been on since i told you
'till morning
And hung up
On for hours... so i have a voice
Involved in conversation
Bad ones
Random as sodomized cars and broken knuckles
Better that way though
Pan fried
Catchy news
Lovely enthusiastic voices dispell...well...nothing
Just give ironic forms to the air
Flowing in an absent gaze
Between the screen and a thought
Staind glass
Drag me
Periodically from a book
Read in low light
Reclined in a grey cushioned chair
Tilted back as far as it will go
Not neccesarily more comfortable
I've gone through a half a pack of smokes
Since 7:30pm
And its barely 1am now
Ashes on the book
As i blow them off i get distracted again
By the snow
By a story the author never wrote
I'm reading it through white rivers
In the letters
Through the ashes
In them
I know I wont remeber the last paragraph
-because i was reading about you-
With my patio door slid ajar
As cold as hollywood winter is...or gets...
Pull over hooded sweat-shirt
Hood up/eyes low
Always interfering with myself
Throwing up markers
Chalk in the asphalt
And road signs
Shot up with buck shot
With tangible...ill-tangible stimuli
Into gorged air I go
Where everything is you
Born to come here and play good games with ample tricks to your soundtracks
And play dumb as i flow
Through the words with eyes
Blinking wilder like I need to dust
You understand when communication comes
I'm bombarding
Symbols with blood
Turning up on my hands
In the place
Paper backs
While the television has been on for hours
I read about car crashes and and heart aches
And think about ear-aches and silver bands
And your hands
And how i wish....
They would just cover