it is raining rust now
as we look up at the sky
hollow moon withered trees pancaked gestures

eyeballs pop out and scramble away
fearing the torturous sights
we subject them to everyday
minutes last forever

virtual moments last only so long
when you think of them on the lasting effects of your brain
you begin to smoke
soon after the gagging doesn’t just stop
it halts with full force speeds
and you puke out your trachea

signaled dollar signs point to the fun
exotic replication for the price of coffee
where is the slot machine to open this door
scrambled egg brain seduction
sucking on the frontal lobe

but wait
there is more
just look behind the curtain
and see for yourself
look at what you’re missing on the other side
but don’t look too long
you might go mad

rust fills the pails left out to collect
we all wish we knew what that meant
but we just push on in a single line
never really wanting to question the way things are
no one wants to ripple
and no one wants to see

what of the poor birds who try to make their nests
but the trees are all gone and there are no twigs
so they use bone splinters and fragments of skin
on top of a steel tribute to god
they peer down cautiously

singing songs with sign language
musical scores blasphemed across the sands
gut wrenching moments lost to the time
afterthoughts and a wish
just to hear the rhyme
for a moment
blink blank rust filled sockets
bleeding heart hollow moon earth
soaring above the freestanding monuments
leveling off the shark tooth republic
stealing away the circus tent
and sleeping through the dog fights
slouching towards the harbor
to the blue ship reflecting
joyous melodies do not take form
but fall to the ground to be forgotten

the ships leave
with the dollar sign disco reflex
the curtain and the birds
the rhythm and the screws
and you are left with
rust

the formaldehyde blues

fax me a copy
down in the spiral
over in the hole, there
back into the places where
the shadows are shadows
where the light falls dimly

harsh taste inside
out the part in the short shot
surely there must be a remembrance
to a fraction of time
when things made sense

only there is a part of the heart that dies
when thought progress to the unreal
truths molded into lies
in the machines
from the minds of
the unclean
from the skulls of
the unseen

how many more times must
words rhyme to make things flow
evenly over the paper mill turnstiles
short instructions on how to
all of it is pointless subjectivity anyways

Horus blew his nose on the sands of Egypt
laughing and coughing speckled flesh
pass thoughts arranged themselves in order
to slow down the conscious mind

here we go down the spiral of limited thinking
of the lost thought interlude
passing over and under and through and threw walls
made of our own inhibitions
conditioned to believe in things that are not really there
anyways

point and stow away the remorse you feel in your eyes
glancing waves wash upon the steel fractures of the guilt
you hide inside yourself

wishing for a clear view and getting cloudy all the more
time lapses like the fog rolls back into the sea
you find yourself a grave and sleep
before you know it