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Decomposure
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Sound to Heat
absorbed sound turns into heat on a deadend street
where the ground below your feet swallows voice and beat
and compounds just underneath until none survive,
some found out and didn't speak, were they misguided or right?
now nobody drowns in the deep,
they drown bobbing for crabapples in tupperware
or huffing sauna steam shuffling their feet underwater
for a peek perchance at a passing mermaid
rippling surrogate family drama lemonade bromide
eyes brined, leeched skin like boiled leeks
with spoiled dreams cotton green soylent
spreading like splitscreen and titled free,
tricornered for tea and tv
g to 728 but the fake lake surf-and-turf rabbit treed
handling snakes none dare tread water and white bread
underground as the rogue pet cyclone distributes their sheds
across the homeland's reflective abdomen
scraped in lines with the asserted straight blade
of their ground bones accounted to shanks,
and as thanks these cooked caverns scavenged ravenously and smoked
so a stock's pulse races
and oily irises outchase faces' still oceans to shore
and down to basements to grow hearts coated in pavement and cyan,
the twin multiplying in echoing gold towers
cold flowering sold seeing stars
and stripes raked on backs cut with an invisible knife
and yellow allcaps bite between their teeth
pulling the patriot plow for a sunday drive,
the best advice i ever heard was go back to work, let them cry
and eat cake and apple pie with deep hate and wide pride
and let the guy in the sky sort 'em out - fire or cloud
a crowned seat to the kid screaming loudest
main drag in town is slowmotion dusted for a ghost showdown
the globe rusted on its hinge so it creaks when it go round
the jail's busted, the meek cash in and want to throw down
fast even in sleep with only desolation left profound
i wrote this in my mouth as the day shut down
i woke at nine and held the baby while my wife took a shower
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headed out to the life insurance broker to smalltalk
about fatherhood and growing older
dousing the claws in my stomach with weak coffee
and signing my warrant.
worth half a milli in death
while just a debter alive
dad and design scribe, regular tithe, a quiet lump beside my wife
pelt valued more than my hide, and hide over mind
more than a lifetime of wack rhymes
and failed tries and nasal i's and oversize bullseyes and bullet piles
holding an unread misspelled sign
casting shoddily copied seeds to cold floor
coasting over dull chords with a duller sword
a case without special features.
no one relistens to songs anymore, and i don't tour
since aught four, i have roared against the plated void
in open air to varied levels of ignored
and worn my hair less or more the same as in high school
and felt that trained vestigial dark
coolly whisper around my halo like leaves brushing past
i hate sweating these summers and forgetting where i'm from
and strumming feebly fumbling without understanding the sum
thoughts unanswered done folded up
knowing i'm not funny when i'm serious,
nor gutted enough to be honest,
nor a self so much to be wanted
another reserved preacher's son afraid of looking dumb
and learning late and being unloved
excreting words before they break
leaving empty crates by the door in my office
dead projects in closets
following technology's progress until i can no longer watch it
i had no outline as i was wording it
sit at the table i turn against
burning bridges takes effort,
i knelt and breathed the water in
(it's okay)
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