Armchair Arachnid

  Armchair Arachnid

 In that crowded square where youths have aged. A gaggle of tongue dragging dogs rage in heat for that same bitch, a left footed stance... The slobbering scrotums are shafted! & in those halfhearted motions she keeps her bitter hands busy. You won't be near long, as our fleeting conversations are as shaded as the sunglasses of passersby ignorant of a street performer’s song. For it's a complicated coin toss, a caress full of a thousand beautiful confusions! But it seems I'd rather sleep the rest of these days away in a chest full of rum, peeping through panes of protracting piano pieces, & without a single word spoken in your ear can you hear me? Visible as you are in such an occult sense, but I'm panhandling downtown for a hitch as you left in a cab of comforts. Taking your memories back to that place you'd once called “home”, & if I could feel that lost sense that had touched those tingling nerves, would this angelic pulse fall maddened?! These ancestral echoes the lore of a psychic estate passed on through the umbilical cords tying those loose knots in aged family photos... Origins & clues scraped from a dish of subconscious placenta. Smell the fresh blades of the cemetery grass baking in the August heat, be them... Ants crawling along naked window sills in a movement of black dots your outstretched arms rubbing these reddened eyes with vain thirsts of vision quests.....Is magic dead?