You may think I've gone
but I've got good news.
Make a wish:
twenty-five years later
I promise you a
red-draped room and
the correct words
for these sub-titles.
Filled with secrets
the shadow of a bird
passes above.
Sometimes
my arms bend back
and I feel like I know
something terrible.
Where we're from
a pretty song is
almost exactly like
sympathetic pain.
Dance around the table,
strange,
as oddly stilted
as your speech.
This dream is on your mouth.
You know who killed it now.
When two separate events
happen simultaneously
we must always pay strict attention to
the red thread of verification,
one chance out
between two worlds,
a sketch of futures past.
Wait till your turn
to sing over a circle of candles,
oh - I too have been touched
by fire, but when I saw the
face of God, I was changed,
a spell unseen.
See through this with me.
He moves over to her,
kneels,
takes a pill from a bottle,
drinks.
Silence rises,
slowly fighting
a dream that
distorted time.
The morning
shifts uneasily,
one way, then another,
one way, then another.
Draw the face
crouched in the corner,
vision intercut.
Woken, the air is troubled.
Can you feel it?
Stay, understand.
There's more to know
about memories, stitches.
Undressing a scream
out of the woods,
the hell dies away
from a clean house,
soaring primal.
Run. Run.
I will take care of it,
a background instinct.
Don't sleep, slumber;
something comes
off the speed of a long day,
hungry.
Gone for days,
headlights in a
stand of trees.
Leave something in there for me,
my brother,
hollow knot less than
what you owe.
Anticipate a
handsome aim,
never as much as
one would like.
The glove a switchblade,
wild as a girl.
Maybe someday we'll
sleep well, say goodnight with
a thing like that.
You don't know
what you've done,
teeth for a charm,
convinced of change.
Try not to show fear:
the weight of
this time of year
is a stranger,
funeral's joy.
The exertion of coma
don't get any easier;
correct it, discreetly.
You know
where to find me
when it's over.
I hear you're good at
what you do,
autopsy an all-nighter,
the morning scattered.
I wouldn't expect
anything less.
They're putting the girl
in the ground tomorrow,
her tongue a morgue,
door open, eye-to-eye.
Half the day's wasted
on our way
to be right
with you.
1990 - the hell,
I'm here,
ready to move off,
away from a catch,
false window
revealing things
about her
I didn't like:
shyly lucky,
how close you were,
my loneliness.
I didn't think
to take care.
Oh, I'd like to hear
I'm good,
really;
maybe my dad
will tell his story
about that.
Nobody's perfect,
my cigarette a tongue,
my crises a truth
none of them see.
Let me in, twenty minutes -
somebody might see me,
a shaking hand, hovering,
car parked in the woods.
Bend back,
keeping the bruised side hidden,
tenderly false.
If he finds out about us -
worse to speak, rending steel -
kill. I mean it.
Save it for me, baby.
I knew you'd be back,
highball grime and your
smoking tears.
You shouldn't have spoken that way,
those pains,
a stunned running engrossed,
chasing the bends.
You needed to change - your father...
Honey, it's right out here.
Shaking sick, please listen.
There's no reason to fade.
Sipping coffee
on the edge of generic,
every hour effortlessly untied,
strung glowing, a robin's egg
folded scarlet, new beginning.
Angrily elegant,
your iron gates an
envelope, silk ribbon flowing script,
the music we hear heavy, close.
The pines, towering,
a smaller opera each day.
Note the invitation, the promise.
White room, emerald smoke.
Exasperated, you pound, burst.
I'm not feeling too good, no; think I
got a touch of flu, bruise on the cheek -
fine, fine. I'm going to
erase this, connection pale, face unknown across
broken dishes, shards sweeping stiffly,
the need to rest, to be okay.
Next, my name over a place,
not a person, trash trying to sound normal.
I've got everything here I need;
don't drop by, okay? I'll always feel
like I have to be better.
He tries to move her.
She starts screaming.
When you say the name, secret boyfriend,
it strikes below, startles a bird
way above and
the routine repeats.
When there's no feeling
there's no sense
calling out
what did not break.
Following a dream I had
three years ago I
lay my hands on a line
drawn in chalk, explaining in
full-length a list to the deepest
levels, intuition on the
left side.
Move in on the fire,
desperately moaning, to dance -
stop, stop it - we have to sit uneasily,
recall infant spirit.
Concentrate on the 'J's.
I give the word.
Please read aloud
each of the names.
Hold this, a diary.
Get near me and I
will recall the
direct connection.
I died uneasily,
pursued on the edge of the bed,
restlessly searching.
Stay up late tonight,
pace, boots an impression
of the day I had a problem.
Maintain a watch on the music - it isn't
right, needle on the record,
tempo the heavy feel of despair.
The stylus, key to torment,
startled by another part of you.
Look again,
look again.
We have to dance.
Pay attention with
detached amusement,
reaction a death brag,
complexion bored.
Get acquainted, sweetheart,
the rough buzz of double scotch
an ideal of summer's darling.
The door swings open; register a
shake, the others already in the room,
worldly power, sensational.
Breathe, so long. Arrange this life,
easy without changing course.
Full moon feigned indifference,
illuminates no reason into tears.
Eat again, comforts in the cold surface,
roaring spite rapidly adding figures
to this placid thorn.
Black bourbon, pulsating eye, infra-red
destination - a neon sign possession,
detached reaction.
I just want to take it off.
I should let you know
body and spirit are
still far apart -
I think it would have
turned out this way
sooner or later, trembling negative.
I remember a time I
almost told you what you really want -
remember? Remember?
It's still waiting for you, tender, alone.
We almost looked at each other and
I couldn't even let myself think.
Now I don't feel
what we're doing is the truth.
Are we going to be together?
I almost had you, this way.
