Mutilate words like ‘love’ from words like ‘play,’
Drag them screaming into boxes refined…
...We are wolves and the pixel moon will bay.
A sloping crimson graph line that leans
towards the dramatic, nodes exploding,
rope-strings of hot powerlines lassoing
hyperlinks between -- whatever you've seen.
maybe it will glob together the melting ice fragments around the melancholy planet and hold them together long enough, so i can use that as a metaphor for my deteriorating bones. it makes it more romantic, see, because there's only one saturn, but so many people who could replace me.
what i wanted to say was i was never happy, not even when i was eating that hot melted grilled cheese last night, which i must retcon to being rotten, tasting sour like the sting of isolation. i've always been an introvert, and i cheered when the automatic doors flew shut on me last night, but there's a devil bone pounding in my chest now right now-- and it flies back in time and changes past!me's mind - i'm suddenly not okay anymore, are you paying attention?
growing a vine-t*ngue,
so pixel flowers cluster
and belong to each *ther.
gl*tch graphics that shuttered close
and grew a shell of bright blue.
a paper cutout moon rises, floats, and dips back into a mirror, down below, the night-time city, where each little neon sign is trying to stake a claim to their space --
Powerlines, over city
s t r e t c h -- pulsating red, aching.
.
.
Orange-light hallway,
this dead voice meandering,
thick wires of calls
the day, lived in reverse-step.
Dancing the conveyor belt.
Silk that becomes tendrils burrowing through my arms, marionette-makers know how machines work and exploit it. Flower gears turning, grinding away at memory bone
I'm sorry I burnt
you out of your skeleton
with blue grave-fires,
a fork-tongued flame licks its lips
kissing a crash screen to black.
pixel rainfall explodes red
and drowns the screen in thunder.
.
.
player three:
watching breakdowns from
the outside-- satisfaction
like a full health bar,
backgrounded by glitching sprites
splicing itself and twitching.
capital letters are like v-shaped (.) sloping horns (.) a shield or battering ram gainst some kind of impression tsunami (.) you hear me [sic]
I’m marking polygon trees in bright sap,
so that if I misinterpret your call
maybe I’ll seek the way by gritty crawl,
and show up like a bear at your tent-flap—
in the wreckage of floating castle ruins. on the second page of search results we spurn.
it's steaming with the solar flare of care,
malfunctioned from wires broken and chewed.
I want you and me in an escape pod,
shooting out from this chain-reaction hell,
leaving behind the drunken throes and crowd.
I want you and me at a flash-freeze nod
to vanish with the pealing of a bell -
but don’t you think free time is just a dot?
on an empty sketch map you can draw on
in GIMP, the hours we have are not a lot
and neither the years, running dry the dawn
so click that button, be a better bot
like sunflower petals lost
beneath the tread of a wheel.
>> 02
I let myself fear
the cracks opening between
the words we share, as
orange light dissolves beneath
the blue blanket of twilight
rush of childish want, like gazing through winter frost, gazing through blue light at a lolipop, coveted and never had.
But I wish you and I could calibrate
ourselves to a sunrise, jazz-inspired,
unburdened by the leaden heavy plate
of the world. Just us two ressuscitate
a future flowing gold never tired
and no other standard for us to sate.