all of the saddest things have flown. coops closed and a southern wind blowing home. im not feeling wisened. the sun doesnt chase the horizon. two beer breaths chasing. a night that keeps applying. black strokes on the dark heats oppression. but maybe my body is just letting me win. and cradling a future backed by a cardinal sin.
the wave of the fan reminds me of the waves. and i think and i lay and let my bodys memory jot down words in a bath of the days passed floating on the waters top and holding my breath while the salt dries white on my face and my skin is so hot from a slight reddened burn. and its like the night sweats that stick to my skin. while i spin through my dreams and wake so tired from a sleep thats so mean. with the sheets in a heap. at the foot of my bed.
the music sings nicely as i count my dollars. and digress like i have never thought of anything less...
there are inch deep puddles sitting at my feet. and the level is climbing to where my legs meet. and my shoulders are square to where i am going. and im rowing an oarless shipless me without knowing. im armless and theres a flood. in the body that im in. and im legless in the rising tide which i swim. my head is going under but i can still breath. but the water refracts the light. and now what i see i dont know if i can believe.