Matter

Grind the dust;
They don’t float anymore–
It’s alright.

a warm sunday afternoon

the rushing of steps,
the closing of a door,
the buzz of the refrigerator,
the low humming of a car engine,
the inaudible hiss of a breath,
the silent shoring of dust on my arms
on the arms of my suntanned chair.

they are waiting, for me;
but i am home,
you see?

eel!

i tremble
tremble with
the knowledge
that comes with
the potential.

i tremble
tremble before
the fear causing
me to bear
the unkept promises.

i tremble
tremble under
the weight
of the sin,
the sin of
being nothing.

i tremble
tremble and tremble
to the shivering light
of the winter sun
telling me
it is not over.

personification

i am getting familiar with my smile
encouraging me
to fly

tear

mmph. bed:
warmer than hand
under the pillow
bearing one cheek
on blue wavy sheets
caressing naked back,
caressing naked legs,
caressing naked feet.

hmm. turn around:
see the white ceiling,
hear the distant horn,
feel the morning breeze.

mm. you got your sleep:
a good night’s sleep.
what a relief to weep
after a good night’s sleep.

the unsuccessful interrogation of fich-molte

huh? hah! bah!
ye kint mæyk mey knfes -
ye kint mæyk mey tù tell ya
dit ey kek mey selfe awry dey!
sheyt sheyt sheyt!
dit awry mo'ning ey wæp mey s
wit a pees i thor off
da u-ni-verseeeeeeee!
eik eik eik!

Touch

You can’t argue with tentacles
They choose when to come,
They choose when to go –
One carresses your cheek,
The other crawls behind your neck,
Several prob your chest:
To see if you really live.

Do not fear to breathe,
You cannot fool them,
By doing not.

Just lay bare the device
Which makes you live
Then the tentacles
Will form a unison,
And cover you
Like a mother’s quilt.

Yes, they do not touch there
You should know why?
Hey, did you not lay it bare?
You wretch! You liar!
There is nothing can be done for you.
See, tentacles begin to break apart:
Now they will enter every part
Of you.