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the clouds are motionless
like a painting of a cotton ball covered
sky
it is having no words for you
to laugh at
and the conversation stagnates
after a day or two
suddenly everything is realer than life
and the trees stand out in stark relief
the fucked up film continues around me
and although the outlines blur
and it all begins to run together in a swirl
of smoke and alcohol
i am drawn with heavy charcoal lines

it is having no words for you
to cry for
in the yellowness before dawn
and my tears are blood
from an artery that refuses to stop pumping
i hold myself above the bustle world
until i am one with the clouds
still as death on a cold night
without fingers to pry me open

it is having no thoughts with which to relate
to user friendly existence
i just want to tear it all into tiny strips
of white perfection
the parade has gone astray and we are marching like gestapo
into the night

it is getting lost in the puff of dirty smoke
and you lie in warm non-waiting
non-worrying
bliss
i am the blessed child
with dizzying intellect enough
to know how to escape the carousel
and to watch the whirl
from without
as you slip your fingers over hot flesh
and dream
i feel the blood eroding me
away

it is having no eyes to see truth
and no lips to convey this
knowledge
to you
the leaves slip through my
dulled fingers
as i fall from the broken
branch

it is curling up in the shadow
of the white moonlight
and wishing

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