Back When Back Was Boss
I ain’t no walrus from way back when
I rein in my temper and count to ten
decorated in rectangles stretching garments
worn season after signify portals go cosmological
all in limbo tinted toward reverie
rolling up the carpet from one plane to another
bludgeoned by sadness as a detour to grand stimulation
Baudelaire went heavy on marbling disappointment
it was a gawdy syntax that outfitted a poetic kiss
crowds take my eardrums out of play
the soft side of gorgeous noses me out of a fragile legacy
tapping shelves where looting is rumored to run
deep into the survey of murmured betrayal
cannibals end up lining shot of philosophical grime
pruning the lazy sailors with blood crashing
I gasp on the air released by protest
skin forms into a towering forest
illimitable abuse becomes a kingdom
pretending concern lifting spaces to the fevered streets
nothing more hungry than complete ruin by adverbs
weeding towers away from the heaven we are subordinate to
affectionate beyond the proportional shadowed haze
limb to limb leaves a distorted imperfection
driving a crumpled search in haste at the end of religious choking
I believe in the search for charcoal silence
a scrape or a shuffle of ragged exploration
a smoky flex of a midday frenzied sun
no one traveled close to the edge of the absurd eternal
without falling into the invincible riddle of tongues
in an unintelligible end, I became a ribald gonzo of accumulating loss
tumbling into all that can be conjured back when back was boss
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