writhe/sleet.

wound sheet, stick 'em up, kid, a
descent and an ending, movies the
bastard schism of unremitted skin
and--pooling--a z-shot of experi-
mental proportions, imputing data

in bad blocks and twining fingers
through my hair: i want this, for
you to make me know i'm glowing..
no purpose to it really, just art
for art's sake rolling yet blown,

breathing together & dreaming the
same, melodic-death sidewalk core
expansion and force high with the
frozen still-life freeze-frame of
luxuriating in the essence of it;

the story was written a long time
ago, so many beginnings of novels
but never-ending, was it a waste?
and you're not listening to this,
no matter how infatuated i've be-

come or let myself know that i've
been.. sinuous, crawling needling
babble dripped like abstractions,
as they march on into the nocture
and indiminuition, as marvels the

spool with our heads in the sand,
all extant flesh delaying & shown
effulgent of all manner of living
angel if angels can be said to be
living, he's honestly astonished.