about awareness #3

written feb. 17, 2008

hello dystopia,
i am the archbishop of afterthoughts after long afternoons.
i can tell when they're angry,
can
they tell
when i'm blue?

the nimrods build buildings
to worship pantaloons,
while i hide under blankets
like a makeshift cocoon.

i eye eyes
like a diary,
with secrets that shouldn't be told
i like our jejune mornings like a dog likes it's belly
on a pavement that's cold

can forever
ever be forever
(,possibly)
or
does the severed rhetoric allow it not to be

for the afterthoughts after aftershocks
tremble like tremors rrrrrrrr
rrrrattle hang-dry socks

and lovers lips lock
like their hearts are on the clock
an urgent declaration to untie stomach's knots
(and not before long, they undo button tops)

i can sleep on my own.
i am fully grown.
i cook my own meals
then i sit on my throne.
and our eyes realize before we feel inside,
(inaction is drastic when you have the insight)

so i'll answer your call
if you answer mine
but if you're still not inclined
i'll still leave on the light