You have beautiful veins.
Thick and red, like those crushed velvet ropes,
that cut mazes from the empty space of theater lobbies.
Do they still use those ropes?
In theater lobbies I mean?
It has been so long since I remember going to the theater,
I can't remember.
I cannot remember.
Well, truthfully, it has been years.
Unless you count the last movie I saw,
Slumped on my living room floor
Tiny explosions making sad love against my half closed eyes
Or
Half an orgasm misfiring somewhere in the back of my brain.
It,
The film I saw,
Was about a punk commune gone wrong.
Squatters really,
Eking out an existence if you will
In a dusty abandoned warehouse
I was there,
With Stacey, noodles, dan, ben, willy, pete, mike,
And a few others I didn’t recognize.
There was a gun and a disagreement followed by a flash and pop
Followed by a lengthy discussion of how to dispose of the stranger’s body
And what was really fucked up about the whole thing
Was that I was somehow implicated
All these junkies of my past relying on me for direction,
As in, where to hide the body
Or
Waiting for the right moment to pin the whole mess on me,
On Me!
Anyway
I can’t remember what they wanted exactly,
Or any other details
Just that the whole thing made me feel like I had pulled the trigger
And that they needed me for something…
I wish I could remember...
My God, you have beautiful veins.
Crushed red velvet serpents
Cut mazes of space.
[ 28 January 2003: Message edited by: vocab ]
Thick and red, like those crushed velvet ropes,
that cut mazes from the empty space of theater lobbies.
Do they still use those ropes?
In theater lobbies I mean?
It has been so long since I remember going to the theater,
I can't remember.
I cannot remember.
Well, truthfully, it has been years.
Unless you count the last movie I saw,
Slumped on my living room floor
Tiny explosions making sad love against my half closed eyes
Or
Half an orgasm misfiring somewhere in the back of my brain.
It,
The film I saw,
Was about a punk commune gone wrong.
Squatters really,
Eking out an existence if you will
In a dusty abandoned warehouse
I was there,
With Stacey, noodles, dan, ben, willy, pete, mike,
And a few others I didn’t recognize.
There was a gun and a disagreement followed by a flash and pop
Followed by a lengthy discussion of how to dispose of the stranger’s body
And what was really fucked up about the whole thing
Was that I was somehow implicated
All these junkies of my past relying on me for direction,
As in, where to hide the body
Or
Waiting for the right moment to pin the whole mess on me,
On Me!
Anyway
I can’t remember what they wanted exactly,
Or any other details
Just that the whole thing made me feel like I had pulled the trigger
And that they needed me for something…
I wish I could remember...
My God, you have beautiful veins.
Crushed red velvet serpents
Cut mazes of space.
[ 28 January 2003: Message edited by: vocab ]
