people keep dropping,
while we're jogging,
our memories filling,
balled up like socks.
my heart is stopping,
correct it correct,
call someone.
gaining and breaking,
scraping and flaking,
curls of cold butter,
studded stuttering glint.
not enough to finish,
not starting right,
there is beautiful piano,
coming from that building.
all collecting up,
in memories filling,
until hearts clam up,
and sigh off.
signing up for everything,
bringing down houses,
shaking the frames,
until the dot lines,
collapses.
the world is porcelain,
maudlin,
you are languid,
sanguine.
the heart has breathed in,
there is a snag in my throat.
people keep dropping,
calm catastrophe,
organising ceremonies,
for the dead.
as I collect up all the unconnected items,
in my room, in my head.
No comments:
Post a Comment