Dirty Dream For The Lust Mechanics

The shower delivers

Hot water cascades like chance encounters, running rivulets of conversation

With stranger at a laundry mat where we chat and borrow quarters

And you play pinball while I wonder when the spin dries up

Am I the gutter, nowhere? Or do I yet yearn for broken teeth.

Don’t take shit for granted

Blood and guts, stains and mud

You regret what you want

When the days pass like panic

Make your lovely absurd

The soda machines on the wall are lights out but for a choice few

That no one wants to drink

This is the golden age of surviving despite the times we are forced to

Endure leaning on waiting room benches, spectating uncomfortably facing up against

A wall of rumbling machines

The first cup of coffee of the day makes me feel like

I am in the earth, the taste of ground or dark rich churning there is an underneath

To these procedures

It makes me curious to see

It seems delirious to be

The mess and the dirt and the struggle is such

That there’s a power in sticking your nose in a rut

But the disinfectant sun shining in these winter long days

Makes the heart bold to darkness

And today – another load of bullshit – it’ll come out in the wash

To grind a stone against a current, so smoothlike, criminal, entropical paradise

But I have the germination of a seed

And not nearly the nurturing soil that I need

Sheets to the wind, this imagination breaks when it goes clean

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