clawing through bookshelves, you know?
like sleepy drug addled
or nauseous suicide
(the intellectual not the cry for help)
and these postmodern
s have indexes spouting not-near-enlightenment
but for-its-own-sake and if the two are synonymous
well then maybe cry for help
and scratching, my fingernails grow ragged until bleeding cuticles and a recessed thumb sucker
- to only have nostalgia
for these tiny little appendages in my maw
but only a taste of blood&metallyblood
the irony to think of robot
s when "I am man
", and "I am first"
remaining fingertips trace a leathery binding of graphing paper
full of love letters to the world or someone I mistook for it
pages of 17 year old
without magnetic objectivity
if a compass of
< Wlatsome Eros >
perhaps then this wouldn't happen
guided safe into a memory feeling for first love
perhaps a foolish child speaks wiser, perhaps age?
the cynics? stoics
? weeping, gnashing of teeth and self flagellation?
erotic ecstasy, hedonism
, holy reverence, childlike innocence, heroic optimism, selfless fucking
or are you making love?
and this is masturbation
! and this is a moot point!
oh dear sweet nameless object of affection,
when I loved you, I loved you like dictionary definition
some dream and I never mention the softness of your skin
(it is a cliché)
now the color of your eyes, and the softness of your skin
is very small for worldviews
these are penny haikus
, and to know poverty
makes less cents