The parody of now
intimated to me from every hole.
My mouth is bleeding falsettos.
Hearty lies everywhere.
I do not feel the necessity beyond
wasting every experience,
how I drag time.
Killer horns huff and puff.
Still no love in my horizon,
tally is off.
Nobody is counting, nor looking
for vagrancy in my mould.
Los Angeles, night
cactii cemented gardens:
Upon return, should I contemplate lyrical deaths
to open a new revelation as another grave?
I muscle the morning out of my solar system.
The sun still unborn
in blackened palms.
9