the mirror in which life reflects me…

the mirror
in which
life reflects me
is extraordinarily
unfamiliar;
startled
i wake
and
startled
pass the mirror
and am reminded
of my form
in the dreamed present;
somehow trusted,
i say ‘i’
and consider
indicative of you
my perceptions
of a ‘you’,
reflections
in the nightmarishly
pleasurable
mirror
of these eyes
a 2-dimensional
world
extrapolated 3-dimensional
and given meaning
out of nauseatingly
unsettling habit
feelings
dreams
thoughts
images
arise
abide
decay
all of their own
momentum.

nothing is intoxicating
if you look at it coldly,
clearly enough.

Advertisements

time forgets…

time forgets
how to speak
how to love
how to think
images sleepily
manifest
the moment
drunkenly
stumbling
into crassness
or beauty
worship
o worship
for none
but the hell of the
boiler-room brain
glared back at
cursed at
imprisoned
oranges
gliding
tempting
commands
accidents perpetual
recompense
for the twisted
sadism
of the non-smilers
closed closet
dark room
dark cave
singly lit
and lounging
intensely
intent
upon some such thing
as gardens
or war fields
rippling ripping
your poor sickness
of a mind
made green
render blue skies
infinite
watched atop
the firs
all of the
private things
of love’s rolling over
daisied
focused
it’s easy
too easy
intoxicating
benevolence
not captured
really
in tin cans
slogans
and phraseology
one minute
a thousand
of habits
and denials
i’m forgetting
slowly
soon
i hope
i’ll forget.

you have to be old…

you have to be old
to understand
the growing pains
of all all the time,
you have to decay
to understand
arising and abiding,
still all nothing
matters to only me
the thoughts
coming naturally brighter
than the sun
or more narcotic
softer violence
obsession with
mental layers
wandering
through mental worlds
to soften
the sudden violence
of the momentary
meaninglessness.