Music can flush out my nervous system/a waking life, shock after shock,/built on fatigue, never a need,/to feel anything other than the self/I touch the heat at the tip/ of a broiling coil of wire./Once more, I find myself surveying the scene in tall grass,/full of what has been handed down to me/I’m a match for my past from a few other countries/were I waited for the means to derangement/it catapults a soul through time and space/so much for roots, so much for kicking,/loose talk, all the sweltering summer/select from the most morbid topics/free from the legitimate need for my own crucifixion./the means to make any kind of difference:/ready threat of control,/secrets revealed, gone,/a nervous eye towards saying things aloud/hollowed out by mountains of companions/I remember a three day lapse/sheltered by another hue./I /The night manager sets his timepiece./I set my sights on Astor Place/where people believe /in making love during driving rains.
Go Man Go
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