Archive for March 24th, 2011
The Bats Fly Hard
Sliding terror for a hollow day
full of some blue and cold winds
with crazy mice who swim.
There is gray in the world,
told it is dangerous,
not life but people,
poisoning my eyes,
making my brain dance
after midnight
with pink life preservers
But the bats fly hard.
They fly steep,
these bats,
dancing with jiggers of scotch
crystal clear red eyes exploding.
Fog Coat on Crisp Day
The day was brilliantly crisp. My disposition was the opposite and felt heavy in contrast.
His fog coat was chaotically draped and covered any hope for order to the day.
We look for signs, and when they aren’t there, we may know it is okay, but our stomachs fall on the floor and dance with the mouse shit.
The five trees were depressed, lacking medication, and one of them was clearly growing down and back into the ground. The dog scuffled around the trees anxiously with her nose to the ground, stopped, pointed with her right paw, tweaked her ears, and thought she had something, but she did not.
stillfugue 