Ribmeat Of The Family Tree

Sloe Train Monday

5-23-05

Delightful laboring gracious,
I'm it in pain all the time.
Watching never sleeps,
stopping hides
and walking is drowned
in reverb of thought
over an echo of light.
My ears become canyons
and the world is mixed in 5.1.
Your tone is beautifully mastered
unimaginable in drab underscore,
forcing me to listen italicized
or miss everything by an inch.

I've gargled your thoughts no more.
I complained,
but the static preached to me still sang.
The onset honeymoon funeral march to nowhere
went from lightning to end trend end
as we search still,
seeking peace seemingly steps there
but only traversing halfway each time.
The tracks, dark and desperate,
get shorter
as the will creepingly wanes exponentially.

Gracious laboring delight,
I fancy I'm it in love all the time.
The load jumps on my back,
forcing me to wind down to you.
I creak like a cane,
old bonebag lurching hoboesque
station to station
as I watch this liquid
carve a tiny me out of me.
Brown and sour
are my flavors
and rue is my after taste.
I offer the patient smile of an afterbirth
after rolling my eyes toward you
over the impish prereactions you cause
and flail erect demons in every direction,
hoping you'll come.

Panic from starve to settle
I compelled,
it drug you down into me
and I into you
with us into and out of it
as though we were wet sponge
hardening in a metal vice for hours.
Be us dry to rust
or soft to stale
we steel each moment
like the master no more wiser.
It was I; sad, popping eye of I,
who whispered toothily
"we should try this again"
and off we went...
another long day of everything empty
ending everful eventful,
everso wrong and tinged excitedly.
So goes the greatest ride
never to get where to go
and never to board.

The trav'lling digress
the track itself.
Journey past the neck,
over the rocks
into the heartland
and pick at the sweet meat.
It has warmed to you
as you warned me
you may warm to me.
Cascade down, down,
further down
to take it all in.
Here's where you discover
everything they "forgot" to tell you
in the bio on the scene.

Sick laboring steady love,
I'm in it passion and plunder
everywhere.
Interconnect is all around
when I need it to be more intrakinetic
rather than loose cannon.
This roadlife shamble will ramble
on throughout me enough
to scare me back inside for a good long while
if I can't shake things right.
Next train leaves in splitsecond
thought/react span.
If I go I go for good;
if not I lay in peace
til reinvention
boggles me into a retooled priest
of a litany of vices
(all inclusive)
while I try to take back what was once mine,
strongarm fashion.
This would be called
"nothing to do,
with five seconds to do it".
I opt
now.