Word Play

Murdered Time

(the angels scream in heaven, jealous)

The night is good to me.
My mind balloons confection.
Feeling full from the outside in.
I grin with the beauty of my surroundings.
Hot wax filling my world.
Holiday cheer flicking at my eyeballs.
I sigh with pleasant contentment.
Everything icing and sugar.
Sweet indulgence in my chest.
Snakes sooth through my bones.
Cats lick at my tongue.
Birds peck in my skull
Violin strings plink on my skin.
The sounds of sweating air burns through my ears.
Pastel colors drip meaningful ideas
and humid emotions.
I take a bite from the sky,
like god.

Peering into the shallow dark,
among the serene swirling of stillness
I see past the others
blank with static euphoria
and drill into her form with imagination and greed.

Her skin dreaming soft.
Her hair honey river flowing.
Her pursed lips know I am here.
Subtly hiding a smile.
A smile of complacent confidence.
A smirk of secret possession,
even as her cherry sauce eyes scan past me
with impassioned disinterest,
with gymnastic flexibility,
bending over with her sex.
She is unreachable.
forever too far away.

My mouth waters.
Just glad to be here.
Just glad to be so full.
With the beauty of my surroundings,
filled with holiday cheer,
from the out side in.

(originally written circa 1994-2002)

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