Little jealous in the shallows, another found the coolest shell. Bay with mountain blasting beyond the water. Raised hell to praise his shiny bike, or highest kite in the still blue of afternoon. Retrospect in smoking vest taps a cuban on the carpet. Boy with bowie knife guts a happy rabbit, new ritual suicide pre-packaged instant magic, the fool fell off his harley laughing. Demystified the inner workings of toe bones in the 40 horse power chain wheel. Black occasionally split with the red star of pain hovering in the north like a hive of eagles. Saw her in the floorboards first and to avoid the war, that hardest walk, became swan upon the Ganges. On the wind that filthy euphony you used to sing while killing spiders in the kitchen; belly laugh to eclipse the heart, a surging in the shadows.

Who judged them legend?

- The powder-slave who built the fortress.

They mutilate themselves with shameful tortures. At the gates naked angels laugh as stars deflate, hearts thumping for our daughters.

The wasp deceased in a rusty sink her torn open heart her bleeding wings beside her in a vinyl bag. She could only hold the flower for an hour before it drooped like a bored worm in her fingers. You could have taken me apart with the ease of a machine, just then an insect pinned in fixative The silence now without a shadow. At once all too lofty and full of sorry ideals she continues limping along the outskirts. You see her there crouched like a cringing and distorted tree, contrary to the colonel in that other world of make believe. And you can never steal back this moment. And then another sound, a rusting swingset in a badly landscaped backyard.

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