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Description
I melt...
and that's never good.
A free-fall into a liquidous state-
Where, head swimming in
cigarette smoke
and cologne,
I reach monumentous
and petty
revelations (about conciousness,
society...and where "we" fit in).
Then we dry, from our sweat-stained oblivion,
as most things do under
the heat lamps
of modern right and wrongs
(which although grey...burn white-hot),
Where our mouths, dry as the Sahara,
stretch out to taste the oasis, our oblivion.

And what's left of foreign sweat,
blood,...and an unstimulated youth,
congeals into a fine white dream.
The sstatus symbol of beauty in cultures long past,
Today- a chemical bond
between the unspoken horrors
of a life of desparation and chance,
and the free-flow of middle class demand and leisure.
(Where horror is a word whispered in association with
letters four or five deep into the alphabet...
marked on fearful paper.)

Recreational- the affluent's escape
from pseudo-torture,
to the heart-imploding, utter
               rush.
-ruined lives- so that we may feel a
moment           of life.
Truly alive-as pale powder
explodes to a full array of color,
a broad spectrum of light waves, coursing
electric through constricted veins.
Beating- a tempest on erotic drums,
guiding our way to synchronized rythym:
So our motion- the steady
up     down    up    down
over erratic breathing,
ends in our climactic big-screen implosion
and retreat
from a single skin, to bodies years apart.
And we come down...
hard and fast.
Back to hot, dry mouths
Thirsty- craving the precious moments
of unadulterated life.

In this desert suburbia,
Where-born priviledged-
we forget how to live.

Description
I melt...
and that's never good.
A free-fall into a liquidous state-
Where, head swimming in
cigarette smoke
and cologne,
I reach monumentous
and petty
revelations (about conciousness,
society...and where "we" fit in).
Then we dry, from our sweat-stained oblivion,
as most things do under
the heat lamps
of modern right and wrongs
(which although grey...burn white-hot),
Where our mouths, dry as the Sahara,
stretch out to taste the oasis, our oblivion.

And what's left of foreign sweat,
blood,...and an unstimulated youth,
congeals into a fine white dream.
The sstatus symbol of beauty in cultures long past,
Today- a chemical bond
between the unspoken horrors
of a life of desparation and chance,
and the free-flow of middle class demand and leisure.
(Where horror is a word whispered in association with
letters four or five deep into the alphabet...
marked on fearful paper.)

Recreational- the affluent's escape
from pseudo-torture,
to the heart-imploding, utter
               rush.
-ruined lives- so that we may feel a
moment           of life.
Truly alive-as pale powder
explodes to a full array of color,
a broad spectrum of light waves, coursing
electric through constricted veins.
Beating- a tempest on erotic drums,
guiding our way to synchronized rythym:
So our motion- the steady
up     down    up    down
over erratic breathing,
ends in our climactic big-screen implosion
and retreat
from a single skin, to bodies years apart.
And we come down...
hard and fast.
Back to hot, dry mouths
Thirsty- craving the precious moments
of unadulterated life.

In this desert suburbia,
Where-born priviledged-
we forget how to live.