prescription
scribbled on my hand..

bland sunday
head buried in someone’s story,

asked for
the housekeys back,

drove to hear music move
like my body’s
steam,

night whistles through
the cracks we
dream.

chalk-eyed
ether-

sticky sands
expanding under..

forever layers
deeper..

heart heavy
panting
fever-

slightly shucked
shellfish in
shivers-

surface regrets..
reconsidered

upon ocean of
melting
bed

wax
liquid

oblivion again.

sir rooster mounts
farm table,

mute, with proud
intent

bold, for beast
so quiet,

feathers fan bed’s
drowsy brood-

rousing but
seldom
rude.

pixabay
image: RyanMcGuire (pixabay)

stale bubblegum
smell

mine
or yours
?

i could never
tell

life’s flavors from
the pop
..

until blowing
stopped
.

..onto ice cream
now
,

any sign
lighting shop?

image: PKGN (pixabay)
image: Alexey_Marcov (pixabay)

“alright ginger,
send
in

that
master
of madmen”

we’re all ears and
must hear
..

dear beast, who’s
in season?

dammit he’s
loose
now

shan’t catch
him

by thinking too
like him
,

i smile small
to thank
him
..

no
doubt,

we need hear
no more

“alright ginger,
show him
out.

image: mohamed_hassan (pixabay)