And it was all half-smiles

All terrapins were choking me,
the soft gallant return to individuality.
We did not see the stars that night,
the synapse-based paint flooded our perception;
a flowing merely glowing with resonance.
As if shafts of prism-light held us into the air,
great hands for reaching nebulae.

Gold, perhaps, I could scrounge.
As if desire held no price.
A weak Thursday apparent and unseen.
We could forget our names and swallow fireflies
on hills of abalone and wheat.

I can go to sleep, but only when you break glass,
and steer the fraudulant scavengers to foul fare.
Crisp apples were the taking of our enjoyment.
The cloud, the daisy, and the firestorm.
You only die once and live but a few times.
So she spoke trapped in lenses.
Amid the bridled king of addictions.
And you shall see all half-smiles.
Subordinate rulers are the others in loathesome.

Jun 23, 2008