Thursday, December 9, 2010

take no prisioners (as they influence our energy demands for FTL)

a man inside a box moans
he reaches the lid
feels the wind as it blows life back
keep floating in the mud

the trashcan is dumped
he gently changes bags
while hearing the crackle
of charlies' deaths

traffic lights all red
the truck stops at...
the truck stop

all connections lost
no light travels
all we have is a red sky
and some arsenic
for the acid
in bacteria

california is right there
but florida is waaaaaaaaaay
back there.


The Dark Son of Janus said...

not to touch the sky.

thanks jim, for not living to screw the legend.

Larissa said...

it seems to be something about alcohol wishing to be acid, though the only thing that really makes you trip about is arsenic-fueld bacterias in california or maybe the cars comming and going alone over the street in front of your place
would it be just the sensation of being alone and the certainty that this state will not change until the whole night ends that allows your heart to give life back to your poetic brain?
Sometimes i ask myself why haven't you been writing as you used to for so long...