vacant, no. Flat.

Bring me justices,
here with your water cascades
of triumph, this wavering nocturne.

The sun will never forget the cursing of the curse
under white moon-light.
(I may have caused it great despair)

Big world, must you make me crawl
under streetlamps for the hush
of wind that plagued me once?

Saturn has tilted in its strong victory
and sways it's might above
my crazed outcome.


Act I :

I ordain myself Tango Blah Blue and draw crazy symbols on the kitchen windows as the linguine boils.
I should be on my way, I'm quite sure. Fuck, I don't know- pack my things at least.

I think its time I dropped
the tin-pan signal from my lemon sky
and walked
too far
into any forest to write the rest.

Last night a ghost-bird left me
ideas in my broken mind,
but I cannot see them
in the morning
through these smouldering,
eyes which deflate me.
I still smile but I worry about my eyes, they seem
(Get in line, little words.)

vacant,

no.

Flat.