Our Eyes Eschewed the Glory of the Coming of the Bored

Fuck spring.
Fuck the blossoms on the tree. Another sexual awakening, opened.

Close the damn door. Go back to sleep.

He wasn't the biggest guy I'd ever seen but I couldn't quite think exactly of who I'd ever seen that was, somewhere out there

somewhere out there a little lost gold dust on
her ears
flooded with messages that darkened her eyes.

I wandered the streets severing
through the city mostly, a collagen across the land
the surface I mean, calling and
I can’t stand my own mind.
The parting glances there where there is a road that leads but not toward home.

This was supposed to be a setting sun, not hope
Nope. Matted leaves repellent down, when everything is new everything
Echoes like voices
zigzag in the eyes tight shut night

In forest-view apartments avoid the windows
crack-a-bay feel the cold wind
wrap up your dreams 'n cover them in ice

So he left you? Boo Hoo. Now I know.
Will you be going it alone?
Dirt on your fingernails makes me want to act impulsively.
i wanna sin, i wanna lie
Tear you apart and leave you dry
like the old man under the fortress of moss

Thinking about my hairy friends
with tired hearts up in the cold mountains. Thinking a made-up bed is a bourgeoisie dream.
A California Jew staring into the infinity of his soup

I want so little in this wild April heat that it's scary
yes I know. My inactions could be misconstrued
taking advantage there's something bad within me
allergic, eroding, anulled to all the damage.
You're tripped up, slipped up
A blonde haired ghost all black-lipped up
Spit tuck, silk straps 'round your hip buck
Eyeing myself in strange place.

I think I'm going to be sick. Roman ruins, indian ruins, ruined ruins.
You see where this story is going, don't you? Isn't it high time
we scraped the paint off, like hoary moon breath
Oh I hate that song.  Wrong wrong 9-5 long.

The old man reminds me that most days I don't even know myself.
It seems to me that everything is find just behind the surface.
It seems to me that there are forests of doubt and above them blue sky and sun.
The forests are burning back in Rancho land. I am yearning for my own arms.
Yearning for an armament to ignore.

"Have you seen the fires?"

"Yes, how are you?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Machinery is too much for the earth to handle."

"You mean you, y’know?"

I think about mentioning fulcrums. Describing an apple. Sour color in tastes.
Crawl through the barbed wire strands beneath the boughs
and make a run for the top of the winded field.
This afternoon isn't cold. You know that clouds dress for the weather?

I don't think I can handle it.

"Do you feel these things I feel?"

The heavy incandescence of romance, smothering me blind
A dark night potholed by loneliness
I understand now. It seems to come in dripping drops.
Those boys out in the parking lot understand. Nope, they're just drinking. Let's take an inventory of what we've got.

A shelf of books, a table of newspapers, expired mac n'cheese, a rusty kettle, my spring hiking boots, toothpaste, condoms. I am talking to myself again. Show me some trust.

There are clouds over the road that look like they need chasing. I am a dog in want of a tail.

Show me something flat.  Enough with the bursting