war machine

wrap your arms around me

left under the ice. The leaves prevfent the snow from sticking to the ground. I had a heart attack shovelling snow because I am an old alchoholic man. I looked up into the sky breathing that white light and mad brigthness. The soft quiet flakes rain down on me as I look up and feel the hard grit of the sidewalk safeTsalt in my back fading. Suddenly the heaviness is lifted and I am light as the air again a spirit floating free in the cosmic interconnected. The last train leaves the station and I am in my mercedes again a top of the world. Atop of the glowing hole of pulsing nothing that I do not fear because life is under my sails again. i spring forth virile and wormy loam vomits from my lips. The eyeballs in my head pop out and bounce then roll down the sidewalk in the cold and everything.

Now I am invisible.

But at least the snow keeps my organs preserved well and the air is crisp and dry so no mildewy rot. The water is turbid. But I will not boil it. I am of this earth and the worms squirm my tonsils. The razorblade of the earth cuts under my tongue the sinew connecting it to the jaw is severed and now I can speak freely the pendacost moving through me I speak red fire and loosly the tongue flaps against my cheeks. Hurting no one, I am invisible. I am loud once again like a baby screaming for its father but this time the words are clear and precise. My thelon level is zero - fully clear. Beacause the witch doctor says now. Because the grass burns clearly. Under the world there is snow but I am keeping warm loving concept. This is love. This is my life blood.

Teeth freely red, I must loose them. I grab that snowshovel and I turn it around before I drive it home. The aluminum is brittle and sharp but still yet firm enough to jar my dentures but it only breaks one free. My arms are strong as oxes and I feel the adrenaline pumping yeas I can do this. Soon 34 teeth lay there in part or full upon the sidewalk cleared of snow by that same shovel. My back is no longer sore and I get so mad about people who litter when it is snowing because you always know it looks like shit when it is going to melt and my god you wonldn't do that if people could see you pickup your own darn crap don't mess with texas.

love is stronger for men of my age. I can feel it in my bones like the sweat pouring down the leaves. The sweat sticks to the branches and the weight of the crystal water does bend the trunk. Soon the cold brittle wood will conspire with the weight of the cold earth and be reunited in a brittle snap. No green wood, you will not bend and return here. You will lie now asplinter across the path with the ice of your undoing finally meeting the sidewalk salt to remove that tiresome burden. In the spring all the trees still slouch and some die from the hard winter injuries. Forecast for next Sunday: freezing rain.

Be still my gentle heart. the tremours of the earth will settle you. Cold is the hybernating cardboard boxes all stacked up sqaure to the shoulderz. the hobo people sit neatly under each and the paper apartment owned by the merciless cuban land speculator will not take flight to hong kong this winter. Tax breaks dissolve me. Litter barrel pork chops. Trust funds are underrated.