Social

Social In the smoking garden I read to you Among the grasses and the bushes Bred for pleasure surviving off our leisure listen and the vines are not indifferent I read to you smoking in the garden Burnt sacrifice to fuel this symbiotic musing Are the shrubs not pleased with me I am with them. But then Into evident and harsh blind light I go Spear headed rays out to offend indignant rod and cone I become a figurine upon the mantle with gaudy candelabra Reflecting off slick light cut glass I go Forms which all the party can barely see or claim to know I go The whole insolent scheme recoils in squirms Porcelain break and shatter at their heels. Bring fresh blood to mind and eels. Foolish foolish skin and reflex Pull out all the stops andrecite with Bitter precision all the correct provisions. I attempting nothing more than normalcy I have brought down the axe of piety Fill guts with burning spirit that intoxicate the lies and Master craft of brilliant Julliard’s sudsy pornographic stars modest as they are. In a soap bubble I found my temple is the numbest stretch of plain I now think as they and not as I Commence to wither at the edges Begin disease (digress digress) a decent into the night Prompt and selfish flight precipitates this age of formative catastrophe. I dream like a dead man I dream I sleep with crocodiles in the River Nile Like the dead men I dream