i wrote this torn apart
torn paper sad
that you pepper tight
you rushing & dare home of washed up sleep
on waves of your pocket’s cemetery
you have a dead thing still a doll
on coughed up once had a pillow underneath
it’s so unfair around but now
you’re like in barcelona
ever lost so cold as symphony his sleeve
ever lost felt all of a torn paper note
never dreamt & drum this mouth comatose
like washing your pocket’s pestilence of cold
i think of eyes never forever
never found your laughter unchained
prudence sawdust & glass in the briny palace
in again & but dormant in flowers
& frigid look at stormy sleep symphony
in blue symphony again
out a cartoon as in with nothing left
with nothing left but chill
chilled all stormy in the asunder broke up
stamped & whistling in seas all snowy
& the catacombs torn up it all began
the seas go to the underworld in your chest
your tempests out the wintry slipshod
shafted after drowning little fool
picks out drifting in the the seas
sandwiched across to wear the catacombs
symphony stone the eiderdown
sludges through places you cannot feel
all teacups & in leave of your heart?
in leave of your heart?
into your spider house again at midnight
don’t you see it is ever true stormy
i wrote this torn apart
torn paper sad
your veins
the deeps
your bed
good night
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