(no subject)
A face away from cunning, a charicature
A craving
A seat to brag upon, an ambiance, a radiance.
Swift and gray, expansive a gasp away to turn and suddenly bump into a conversation unhinged unplugged and deaf
Muted
To tune into not the words of it
But the fine balance of nothingness and of oblivion
With a long pole in hand, to walk the fine thread while a band plays below and the sounds of a million tiny lives tune precisely and quick
To watch in between moments of snatched dialogue of this and that
To smile to yourself in cadence that only you can feel and ride
A rocking chair that doesnt matter to anyone else in the entire universe and so, a space that is just yours
A massive squeeze of paste on teeth of grit that does not sing, of agony that can be cheap, of dimes and of carousel horses alike
Cramp in the anus
Gurgle in the throat
Solitude no matter where you go