So long as I’m sleeping my eyes will remain shut. Tired, weary and closed inspirations slowly close. But close remains lost and lost closed my eyelids.
Smelling the scent my hairs prick and instinct sets in. Don’t think about why, how or when. The hairs on my skin know now where and how. I’ve smelt and taste is still to be dealt.
Take that clammy hand and feel this. Force it out into the dark and find what keeps the shadows still. Your fingers will creak when you grasp it and quaver with an uneasy nervousness. Squeeze till my knuckles crack.
Peel those red eyelids open, turn this light unto the stills of sense. Your cold but blood will soon warm your color. So long as you keep them open, the sea will force salt along their rims and you’ll watch those waves; steering your galley toward the moon.
bars, stripper noise. dirtbag detector. automatic rejector. who’s the guy sitting right up front there? why does he stare so much? you’d think he never saw a woman before. what does he wear that long coat for? does he want people to think he’s a pervert? where’d he go? probably off to off some unfortunate humanoid traveller. have you ever heard of the dixie cups? let’s go to the chapel of love and get married. not to each other but to strangers. wouldn’t that be fun? i suppose it’d be more fun if it didn’t really have to happen. walk, walk, walk, walk,
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