can we taste anything but silver?

are there dimes in my mouth?

i would choke on five dollars worth and cry boohoo im sad im over it i think im over it. the
real mountain is not the heaving sighs in quiet rooms but knowing there is so much more
space than this world and knowing i cannot fathom the monstrosity of a red nebula in the
shape of a horses head.

does it breathe or am i better off staying in bed?

how can i put this in a way you have not heard let me try see the wires of my brain have not
been attached correctly theres sporadic firings across synapses that cannot be measured
with even fingernails or even your water levels flood the basement you will not find me there
check the laundry room i bet theres blood soaked bed sheets from homicides i do not
remember commiting. did you fucking say that right is this a signal. ive never known what
beauty truly is. but i can feign knowledge of it like a boy trying to have his way with the pretty
girl in the corner; believe me he will never have any idea what he is doing watch his tongue
trip on the first step.

theres still a while universe! and all i can think of is the smell of bradford pear tree flowers in
april if i could explain them i would say they are the flush of an angels cheek in three
hundred and sixty degrees and the centricular force of seeds but i could never undistort it(!) i
said i cannot explain beauty with this weathered electrical center of mine my brain hurts i will
never be that size again

now i ramble but all i want and where my faults lie is in this:

lets join hands and form a circle to position the innocent virgin in the center and we will all
come in time. they all want beauty and thats something im just not capable of giving


did I say i was a bell?
i should have listened to my mother because
nine times out of nine she was right
i should have gone to bed early
i say that now my body is so heavy and it is not
even the ugly of me
but just the sleep i should have gotten
that i did not have
and what would i say to you now?
I could lie yes but that is cliché
and i am not one for starlight
but you were just that
are you dancing a waterdrop waltz at the edge of the wood
or are you still watching from behind a window
i am too aching to lie down
so would you tie ribbons of a different color
to each of my fingers and thumbs
for each day of the working week
i let the red win
i just let it permeate to the corners of each wall
now watch the clock it is on its way north
to a place not such an end of july hell as this
and we will be trout and only swim upstream
to beat the current someday
i am a silent kiss
i am a floating into hand
did i say i am heaven,
i only hate the numbers that stack up
each time i use the letter i
to make myself seem complicated