Saturday, March 7, 2015

The Real Life Adventures of Fantasy Jones

My name is Fantasy
Jones I’m open to anything
My wings are prophecies of light
I stand in my bones lamenting the loss
Of stationary and every hand
Is a being swimming in granulation
Subtleties of ripple and letters
Streams of consciousness
Cutlery and the circumference of the mind
Which is cooked in reminiscence
Pain is sexual emotional comedy
There is silence and birthdays
And there are adjectives for this
But I’m not sure what they are
If it jingles it’s cool that’s all I know
I touch the sky and it cracks
Into mustard it’s only natural
To go naked on a beach
Feeling our blood attach to the seclusion
Sexual somersaults in eucalyptus eggnog light
Fiddlesticks Mouth and Brain Canvas go by
Talking of monsters in their money
I’m cut deep from a drop of sunlight
In corduroy and glue and when I get dressed
I pull waterfalls out of the drawer
And contusions of idealism
I get angry quite often reality is a bitch
The world is full of confusion push-ups and starch
How does anyone know what they’re doing
My existence on paper reaches for your eyes
And understanding and I feel its power when you
Unroll your mind in the water
And float to the stars like a dream on the prairie
Luminous in opposites Portugal to your socks
I agree to nothing but salvation
And a blast of fingers in a fist of summer 

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