Friday, September 16, 2016

This night has a genre
I'm not sure yet what it is

and I'm the guy
this guy

partially free of entanglements
                    "I'm working on it
                      hey"
She's not working on it.

In fact, she's fucking insane
and I can't keep letting myself care.

It's a con, it's a movement
back and out of  me
down and into her
to a place where nothing's there.

Nothing's there, nowhere
except a torrent of empty air
           thin and furious as Martian wind

And there's no one there
even moreso than here

In this slapstick noir monologue of love
& mysterious political thrills

My rain-black dead-end glistens

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