| The plank will nod, and you will go
|
| Hello Chasm, you friendly endnote
|
| with a few well placed swords.
|
| Hello Dawn, maternal grey that hasn’t decided to meet the suns demands.
|
| It was that bastard with the line,
|
| the man we call finish
|
| the place that nothing cross.
|
| He does not see a palm, a hue
|
| He sees you hurl towrd him, and snaps
|
| Just when there’s a rhyhtm get a little bit of salt in your eye,
|
| the price of living, get a little bit of love and you die.
|
| Stay underwater, only comming up a minimal time.
|
| Write a letter to the hidden girl under the line,
|
| I read it all and let it be known
|
| I got a knew kind of gramar, article prone,
|
| and so but tearing you apart at the dome,
|
| Hal calls in from a particle phone, original syn-tactical drone.
|
| «For whom is this supposedly fun?»
|
| dave: nil/OED: one
|
| A different set of normals, like winning a crying contest
|
| like looking at your eye in the mirror before.
|
| Telling the glass guy where to blow it,
|
| the lowest form of flattery, my crushing you.
|
| Play not the space above the instrument,
|
| tie your hammock to the sky and take your leave.
|
| But the king pales to eventually that people will say,
|
| A full sail doesn’t matter if your boat is a fake.
|
| Pink whale you imagine with an elephant face
|
| In the pool not invited to your personal wave.
|
| Get bent, get a new meaning out of the shape.
|
| Get straight, get a new mouth out of the pain.
|
| Open up and the words come tumbling in.
|
| No fair, get a bump and you’re humble again.
|
| You don’t really want to trouble your friends,
|
| you don’t really want to suffer the lens.
|
| You don’t really want to…
|
| And you call your friends and you make list and you pick up a pen and you stare
|
| at it
|
| And you set up a screen and you miss what you miss and you want to believe when
|
| she praises it.
|
| And theres not enough light and a whole lot of fish, and more to process than
|
| you’re comfortable with
|
| And the water is clean and the words feel right, but the eye…
|
| What did you see? |
| What did it mean?
|
| For whom was it fun, the setting sun?
|
| How does one speak without being seen?
|
| How does one make the plank break?
|
| How does one leave the silent mark?
|
| How does one play the final part?
|
| What did you see? |
| What did it mean?
|
| How does one make the plank break?
|
| I see a dark proposition:
|
| the black hole with glittering teeth, the one condition.
|
| The dust on your tongue clotted with apologies,
|
| the topology of a noose, prefix porn.
|
| The glow, the glare
|
| And Lull, sulking like a kid in the corner.
|
| Still, after all the dirty rungs ascent,
|
| The scalding coin above, your family below,
|
| The plank will nod and you will go.
|
| And you call your friends and you make a list and you pick up a pen and you
|
| stare at it.
|
| And you set up a screen and you miss what you miss and you try to believe when
|
| she praises it.
|
| And there’s not enough light and a whole lot of fish and more to process than
|
| comfortable with.
|
| And the water is clean and the words feel right, but the eye…
|
| What did you see? |
| What did it mean?
|
| For whom was it fun, the setting sun?
|
| How does one speak without being seen?
|
| How does one make?
|
| What do you see now? |
| What does it mean now?
|
| How did you make out the last shape?
|
| What do you see now? |
| What does it mean now?
|
| How do we fill the blank page?
|
| What do you see now? |
| What does it mean now?
|
| Why did you take out the final joke?
|
| What do you see now? |
| What does it mean now?
|
| How do you tell the plank no? |