Originally published digitally (January 15, 2014) and in print (April 1, 2014) by Crack the Spine.
Crumpled crumpling craving of life of social interactions. Entertaining interactions for days, upon days, upon days. Days of new, new never needless, new never needless needling its way into an esophagus.
Esophagus, ectopic, endometriosis, elephants in the eyes of archaic symphonies. Symphonies signifying failing free-floating beings. Beings being belated bodies, behaving badly while barely beating the drum, the drum dumbing daily down the beaten path.
Clipping, creasing, caving, caving into treats where we meet, where we meet meat and honey. Honey and sugar. Sugar and milk. Milk milking mayhem outside of a shambled house. Housing carousels and baby laughs. Laughter outside of laughter outside of empathy is no more. More, more, more.
Ching, ching, ching, of clinging masses to falling houses outside everyday life. Life and strife upon strife upon strife, lifting and crumbling before our very eyes. Eyes set upon lies upon silicone dreams and silicone happiness. Happiness is passing this is passing this trust and lust.
Lusting upon a trusting soul, upon a trusting sole, upon a trusting sole of feet and liver.
Daily dos and daily don’ts did we do the dancing droughts and dipping days of dreary dawns and sets. Sets upon sets, upon rows of sets of fine china and lily pads. Pads of dog feet and pads of pencils, scratching, stroking, shaking across a manilla page. A manilla page, a lined page, a dark page, a crumpled page. A page of yellowed age and fragrant happiness. Happiness and loneliness, two flips of the same coin, adjoining, coining tones and ambience.