Me-You Night angels
7-17-05
Night angels,
looming on the edge of their dreamland,
stand facing into the crystal full moon,
exhale the softly-perfumed dew,
pound their feet in nervous anticipation, and
launch up, into the empty sky...
Through my mind, you collide,
crash, explode into shards,
through my mind, you’re digested,
made yummy, night-time me
math me apart, like a baby bird....
and we’ll launch like your ginger-spiced angels,
up, up, up into the tragically-cold sky.
The night angels are drinking flavoured vodka,
into the slightly-hysterical night,
of bitter ashtrays, of bitter mood swings
to the wrinkling tune of old records and tales of woe...
and years that shouldn’t have been...
hot ramen twists with pencil nib decisions...
Images of masculinity and femininity are sliced
by big eyes, around the north and south place poles
of here, me-you, me-you, the night angels have a new
song, a new temple, where they worship destruction,
soft destruction,
soft destruction,
and can you hear the once-invincible metal groan and bend?
readying for the snap, snap...
Smash, came the storm in a storm
smash.
