oh my.
this time it was my tongue
that spoke: thumb to the road!
and we stretch out; i imagine
my dresscode and
my every mannerism
to see me as a worldly Dividual.
my gut is rotting. i have half-drawn
and mostly felt
the comfort of rhapsody, though the feeling
was deranging up to my goddamn
clasped hands.
i realize how impotent i am
with an idea.
that humanly i feel
unkind with this confession:
at the impulse, i must leave.
the girls get undressed and i
recline in my seat.
i put my hands at rest
in comfort
at a cross behind my neck.
i SEARCH OUT.
the view from is spectacular.
a man with the sky in his head
talked to us about a circle
and the locals we met on our mission
talked naturally of seeing
flying ships.
the great northern desert
has taken me again.
in my past i have been left,
i have said goodbye and othertimes
i have just fled.
how may i tame the electricity
between the palms of my hands
and expel it at my own discord?
behind the windsheild i sit in the passengers seat and navigate.
click here to speak to me.