TRESPASSING SCISSORS

the unshaped room without space
waits for a person to take
control of the windows
and squeeze them to pop
lemon drop
everywhere a flutter of rain

and plump pumpkin securing watermelon seasons fill the
hallways of a mirror
encased without
swerves to a
swearing

carpet

losing its fingers
upon the trigger of information

here we sit and watch
an owner
what the day may bring us

said a news screen cast in gold silk
threads to the end of panes day without
dates or prunes attached by fish hook wire

nonetheless

the tooth-thistle
scrubs off a plague of
gelatin encrouched behind
zebra printed
question marks

contains the
coats of pain
these insurgencies require for better formulation of detail

but until then of course, these are the passports for the trespassing scissors,

I wanted to tell you everything
about the gates to the birds
song remains coalesced on the railways that extend down her
throat stuffed with lumber jackets

and hatchets
carved on
woolen
hands

metallic
scorching
sharp
to a luster of

adequate

hurt

the pain of course isn’t something I recommend by
the shelf life of a battery in
plastic draperies scorched under fires’
wooden heat

while
the day turns bluish
to escort pillow
dangled
ghouls
off their
horn
to
a pillbox doughnut gallery of memorabilia

I really like the pixels in here
subscribes a weather from
a town not far in a magnetic drawer

dirty was
a rear-a-view mirror
in a memory of

boxes bracelets hung in the captivity of
many faces without a head to hold the single hydra
of its weaponry mechanic tooth operating poison
nope

not a single thread
of evidence suggests a needle
to dive off
the spool
to untangle
the tapestry of a celestial
sail
made from
the wings
of crying angels

their tears apricots
their halos
firehouses

a boat dangles on the string
of their worlds
this is a yo-yo

but no one would believe me even
if they saw it

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