you look to the left of a window sill and DON'T necessarily use any contraction at all
because it takes time to register all of the information before you
the sleek steel and pallid concrete are flipped over on their respective heads in order for you to see, in the correct perspective
the one most apt for judgment and ridicule
the rain flows down from upwards, a heavenly note, as the sky becomes more and more complex the more i stare
into the blue, then white, then blue
field of retinal manipulation in the form of dark inverted dots in the distance yet right on the surface
love is a lot like those pollack inspired splits of infinity
microwave technology has required us to feel metallic inside and psychologically tonal modernity
shows up in the form of the everyday fabric
i hold on to my keys as i walk these streets
unwashed hair and saggy eyes
his smell still under my nose, both intoxicating and tiresome
there is a certain luxury that comes with urban warrior skin
it is a testament to having been born and raised in anxiety, fear, noise, anger, opinion and cable
i implore the public to forgive such shameless depressive antics; it is not sadness, it is contempt.
two thousand seven.
