i cover my face with my sheet and imagine i'm in a one man spaceship, my feet on the bed post control the thrusters. the hypnagogic flickerings an arcane array of controls and meters. the layers of lies slowly seeping into my ears through a too warm cellphone. a childlike voice from a distant star laughs nervously after each revelation. like reichian counterpoint, an intricate stasis that causes the illusion of movement. i smoke pall malls so i can remember you 40 times a day. utterly useless nostalgia. the frogs by the pond lazily croak the pathetic song of propogation. the intermittent roar of late night semis induces a nauseous anxiety. the rabbits jumping across the dewy grass might as well be elements of a hallucination.
a steady acoustic guitar playing two chords. a beat that makes me want to go at my guitar like a seriously possessed murderer. the scars on its wood are so much more beautiful than the blood oozing from under my fingernails turning them blue. a packet of gutkha rotting my teeth slowly. the lime in the formulation stripping away the mucous membranes in my cheek. my angel sister died in the arabian sea when i was 9. her body never washed ashore.
the look of death in the singer's eyes. but i can imagine a sound more violent. the sound of my liver being pulverized by shrapnel. i've always wanted to see a plane crash. and read autopsy reports mistaken for poetry.