“And in the beginning, life, like shattered shells splintering the solitude of a slumbering tounge, it slit, spilt and fertilized nebulous dreams. And just like that and oh so suddenly, with the wind against my teeth I was born. Slapped, belligerent and bear chested Heart raged & reclined against varnished rubber ribs, clinging to the…
And though his bones they have bled into oat, ash & dust, his stories, quite blahsensical, they shall ever never rust. Whilst parliamentary principles perabulated in his head, he laid upon his pillow, solving problematic proverbs in his bed. Swashbuckling tales wrapped in a small trim blue skirt as she holds a ‘drink me’ bottle beginning…
“Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me. I stand heart swelling between my pores
this scared crows beak through atmospheric places fighting for MORE!
Ruin and rapture, left to swim amongst the stars I soar.”
Through Scarlet birds I am reminded of all that is life;
electric love wailing about in windy theatrics,
perpetually pouring itself into open lipped ventricles,
dying for the filling.
His almond lids encircling still and raging waters beneath a naked moon
This moon, these eyes, they bear the color of swallowed earth, that when pointed, drink the entrails of her loveliness.