persiflage
there are pictures of dead people,
in those storage units,
by the exit coming from the highway,
and just thinking about them,
gives me a charge
i can't quite describe,
but it's there
and the feeling is sooo good.
polysemy
part one
it's warm here…
afternoons spent lazily,
rubbing my sweat,
on these bare walls,
anxiously awaiting visions,
never to appear,
in the hallowed halls,
of broken minds…
tis' you,
that placed me here,
among ovenlike passageways,
leading me,
thru a labyrinth,
of moist hopes,
dashed over spent hours,
with you….
part two
the chill,
never reaches,
never eacts,
never realizes,
its absence,
from these corners,
where I find my days,
in cobwebs,
strung over,
aluminum furniture.
everything.
is neutral here,
muted and discolored,
even the mirror,
painting reflection,
in just browns and greys…
lost and incapable,
of the windows view,
if only,
I could reach them…
part three
elevated.
silent.
above my crawling pace,
those windows tease,
telling tales,
of blue skies,
spraying yellow light,
beyond my grasp,
below my fluorescent,
sterile world…
as I lose months,
constructing dusty towns,
on linoleum floors,
staging life,
inside the barriers,
of my desperation,
constantly wondering,
how green your world must be…
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