… of irked shadows




The heart’s pounding like mad
cannot tell the outside from the inside
in its crude and sloppy crib
immured by flesh and bone

I wonder if that’s ‘cause
I’m so high at this depth
of the machine, turn it off, please
turn off the machine of being human,
let the shadows feeding light to the bay
inhale the night
into their cute little dagger-souls
and randomly slight the hollow intent
of bringing life to more words;
let them all naked and free
as just-noises,
as nightmares made out of dead wishes,
covetous gazes and expired memberships;
let them prowl
and find us
let them
gobble up
inside out
through our guts,
from the bone marrow
to the glittering mosts of hair,
it would be neat the extra space
and to lose for good the grip of
this zonked gaussian retina.
~~ Tired of being lonely
but not of loneliness,
sick of the darkness
but ever more of
night dressed.~




About m)◘(x

ni! for now
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