reypulque

psychoactive

I count the numbers, I learned the names, so the day must be different. I stalk the dust, I cast my shadows, I spill salt due to the usual dreams. It must be different though it all lies the same. I mind the fires of some ancient spark. I drag the ashes with every staggered breath. The wind picks up and the ashes dance...
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antiquities

I wake to the attention of flies, pure intention dirty on my failing face. Fairy wings buzzing in the window, as the heat drains from my wallowing heart. It is the same room, the same shadow, the same absence of skin in the game. Out of all I've lost I find my feet. I linger seated, staring at them on the grubby floor. Just...
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hit parade

I am out here wishing, though all the stars have fallen. I am out here waiting, though the sun has lost its way. The music rattles, the music hushes, scant cover for the sound of lawnmowers and the insane screams of playing children. The shadows practice their brushwork with a seasoned absent hand, the wind sweeping life down from the sky. Something stirs...
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organic

You move the meat about so much you come to believe it's you, these bundled muscles and sloshing guts. Or you think somehow these storms that bear your voice are separate from matter, spirits waiting to be free, ghosts for every habit. You fly that flag that most comforts, you fly the flag that fits. Each of us a nation of symbiosis and happenstance,...
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cling

The world falls down in familiar colors, flashes of blue amid the midnight black. The watches are all wound too tight. Bent springs and tiny gear plates, these anachronistic thoughts of machinery at work in my obsolete mind and staggered heart. I weep a little now and again as if to prove I can. My clockwork though is running down, and I fear it...
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volatile

I need no stick to stir the ashes. I need no spark to burn and burn. The dusk slides along every surface, the dusk sticks to every skin. Every breath mingling smoke and wind, the volatile kinship between fire, air and earth. Every thought skipping along that long slow groove. The song plays all hush and pop, that certain same old tune. Lost between...
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ossify

My dreams all live too far away, my days are nearing dust. The world just falls and falls, shadows painting the walls. The bones all woven into place, as if a sign to mark this waste. Read aloud into the ruins, all ambitions ring so false and frail. The gravid breath, the grievous exhalation. The words spill, useless pebbles cast as spells as hearts...
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parity

I can't name the constellations huddled above the house. I can't call down the storm clouds when the weather is a mess. I sift through the wreckage of thought and image, rolling the pieces in whatever words are loose. I stitch together some story that even I know isn't true, satisfied with the words that stick. I bind the song to its stays, and...
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hourglass

All things being equal, still you spill your sands, time measured only by what it does without. That shape in waiting shifts its shadows, shrugs its shoulders, and begins the dream. The days given up to dreaming, the sands surrendered to the tide, you unburden the shift and sway with the lilt of your hips. You pace the dissolution to the acuity of your...
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little piggies

The last little pig never knew the wolf, only the burials and the brickwork. The last little pig made his house from words, and was never found again. The black and white gave the lay of the land, the stretch and strut of wave after wave of breathless words condensed against these quaking conceptions. The fervid urgency he made in these long braids...
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unlined

It is a nation without fear if all the t-shirts know what they are talking about, colored up so as to ring true and never run. It is a world so beautiful and cast that I do not deserve it, a life wadded up in a corner waiting for disposal. I see the science, I see the breadth, I know the weight of my...
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missing

These hands need something, so I smoke for a while. I scatter my ashes into the wind, I follow my footsteps in small circles, everything caught up in the dance that is missing. Everything counting on the song that went missing long before I woke. The branches flail and lash, the dust stands upon its hind legs and does another jig. The shadows flood...
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