pre-cognitive poetry
takes place without me knowing
and as soon as any old day goes by
I sit beside a pond
inside my head psychic grip then
releases me back into the world again
-s’s.
Listening to rock,
singing as you fall,
Erasing who you are
listen
gently while the witness
Bears of what it saw;
a soul ascend at dawn
-s’s.
I never really thought I'd wake to these mornings
be my lifeline, as I begin to draw it
whatever song feels good to me,
a psychopathic symphony
and whatever I see, I'll believe,
my photographic memory
-s's.
if I reach for you will I finally know what you’re about? interstellar dust is all you are, why do you act like something else?
-s's.
How long do you keep pumping them out of your blood through writing,
Only for them to loiter by your veins and come right back in?
Snippet of Dreamland
-s's.
-s's.
/I want.../(porcelain clash)/
heaven’s deserted. Hell is at its peak, now I wish it wasn’t Wish that I could sneak out
-s’s.
I would especially like to apologize
to you, for I
was skipping rocks
over the pool
of which you cried
-s's.