wires

the new cold air. from the spring time.
brings and breathes images and voices.forward

my favorite blue lights are still blinking
and moving around.
my hands are reaching for globs of paint and
wire mesh again.

his image is contorting...hair turns to electric wires
and his mouth is bolted...and sewn down.
words swirl around his brain..
and luscious fruit crown his temple.

i walk in and out and up and down the loud staircases.
taking in gulps of beer and aspirin.
my hair is soft and long..and today its curls are like
watermelon vines.

my hand is reaching out through all the
thick mud upward and toward the air.
i can feel ropes grasping and carving burns into my wrists.
the pull me up...and my lungs are filled with
sweet jasmine scents...

walking around with the homeless man.
talking about games and sharks
and players. i start to float upwards and away
as i can see his teeth are rotting from within...
and his stench marks the worn and ugly t-shirt.

my chest is filled with pounding of yesterdays
thoughts and desires.
and my face plasters a smile at tomorrow's impending delicacies.
thank you. and your wired construction.