little rotten world

pupil spinning  
spilling into retina  
reminds me of ability  
to admire  
admittance of internal complication  
indifference to flaw  
essence of perfection  
sincerity  
my connection to commonality  
borderline narcissistic  
but that's probably  
just more of my self loathing  
 
afternoon star  
cut open old scars  
apply metal salts  
maybe plastics to create new  
dark inside out  
six doors to the cold room  
securing honorary ornery apparitions  
who would gladly catch a beating  
to breathe again  
 
the jason bourne of bourbon sirens  
piloting spirals  
needs that combat back  
mallory might just need a good mickey  
footstep out of old ash  
but i'm always so wrong place  
wrong time  
should have stole her from that wretched inferno  
long ago  
freed certain recent fears  
still gorgeous in spite of  
because i fucking see it and say so  
 
old sun squints so much lately  
think it knows some similar stomach pain  
that increases the opposite of gradually  
till sky forgets  
how long since it lit last match  
freezing from top to bottom  
so much it's a sad black lacquer tap dance  
in frigid (508),(774) winds  
to (225) crime and puddles  
 
i hope her later never comes  
but niether of our nows seem sufficient  
so i'll still try to find that perfect armed robbery  
the one where i don't get caught  
to finance both our escape  
to a nice warm  
non extradition mental state  
 
all these letters were stained sepia  
long before they ever hit the page  
before coin even left pocket  
sunk to the bottom of the fountain  
fueled by wish whispered  
 
one hundred and twenty minutes  
after the slowest stick  
on this twisted
designed for shadow sundial  
i hate so  
finds true north  
i'll offer another ticket dream  
to shangri la  
and maybe we will bet on someday