air so chilly breath rattles down my throat like a dime toppling in
the broke engine of a 2008 ford ranger going 75 on 45 with a busted a/c &&
filled with candle lights throughout an ice age breathing out 2 centuries well worth of frustration.
a loosened ignition system coughings tufts of chromed lawn. i number that to be this chilly
i have to have made it, like tipped on the fracture that expanded right into the unbalancing
earthquake or charred the last decline of coal required to surround the planet’s
atmosphere with a black velour covering. the sunlight may too be the virtue
of my youth. what can not be left comes to be appendage. i inhale, & & snowmen
plot in the street behind my eyes. i piss, & & ice mixes in a bourbon glass.
when i beverage water, i’m a fistful of salt dispersing on saturn, feet containers of blood
beneath a butcher’s table. a t shirt, black coat, & & flannel layer coax my body organs
from resignation. i’m a seed sown in layers of woollen, polyester, nylon, every memory
of soup burning tongue. i’ll sink in these coverings, te lo juro, filled with warmth
with absolutely nothing entrusted to shed. i inhale ropes of rebar toppling down a pink well.
i breathe out a cloud of satin stalactites that distribute & & detail my obsidian representation.
The message armageddons: SITUATION # 267-590 showed up initially on The Texas Onlooker.
