| Alongside all hearts as they finish with backdrop cities
|
| Like jagged teeth digging deeper
|
| Ripping new wounds for former scars
|
| Stricken with insomnia
|
| Sickened lungs insist on heavy breathing
|
| And the conductor is conducting electrical time signatures
|
| And I fall into rhythm.
|
| My life is a rhythm
|
| And my feet will improvise;
|
| (my feet off beat.)
|
| As I sputter at the knee like a leaking faucet
|
| You’ll be undercover, under covers,
|
| Sleeping with the enemy
|
| This is what we like to call internal espionage
|
| Concrete coated gazes in hot pursuit of self-made mazes
|
| Talking circles around each other,
|
| Deserting halos to be
|
| Handcuffed and hogtied with your words
|
| On the search for girls
|
| (Stricken with insomnia)
|
| With milk-carton father figures
|
| My veins are pulsing
|
| (Free-form jazz)
|
| To peninsula extremities
|
| My fingertips tap
|
| Polyrhythms like nervous fragments from a nervous mouth
|
| And these words set the cadence
|
| To the crude interpretation of scripts and codes
|
| Breeding pixels without homes-
|
| Reside in my mind; |
| Resonate in my eyes
|
| So affect this love affliction.
|
| Leave the injured overturned;
|
| Fight for breath with flailing arms,
|
| In vain, to float the bane.
|
| Tentative tastes for those less interesting
|
| Leave the injured overturned.
|
| Fight for breath with flailing arms,
|
| In vain, to float the bane. |