Moment , on the metro

Heliotrope sky.
Twenty three strains of black
sequester packs of this stuff beneath its lace
of fourty nine odd trees blowing west

Yellow moon bleeds into wisterical colors
Amoung mirages of movement, spontinaiety, thirst

And theres my bored head drooping, but a hungry eye
Devouring through a sheet of corrugated plexiglass
Licks worlds named by some adolescant idolotry
Ambition stretch-marks etched across the cold surfaces

The work of a Key, i presume silently.

A brilliant YELLOW luminescence suddenly floods the window tracings
As a screeching bullet train screams my one true loves name
Mercurial passing with a glowing, arched back and blurred white rumply face
I am now standing on my chair, frantic, rushing the window, nails aflame in tens

When suddenly what is it
But indigo and royal colors alone, wheat and a flaxenlime in their fade
streaking my face through the plastic… a sweating sizzle in its own loss lament

A cautioning scarlet bulb in the background fades to carmine as my mind wanders
drowns into burgundy, eyes into lids, days into years, into, into.


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