kinda, i want to

turn on a dime. weight of the world, stack of five nickels less. i am breathing battery acid cut with a litre or so of water. subliminally all over creation… the dawn, the Quiet echoes of a tea graden. the bend in your cherry stem… the way you look away when i say something important, the smile at midnight when the door creaks.

i am beast… doing beastly things. waiting for nothing but the moon to haze over so i can get my Quick on.

you’ll see me there. you’ll pray for blindness.