Kill The Pilot

On my bones
Heaps of conjuring stomach
Leathers dead for dead of grains of dissection
All daggers melt down into ashes and blues of calender hue
My telephone chords
Freed beyond for
Flakes of doors in the sky
Crawling entwined
sharp holes,
bones,
diazepam days
I forgot to wish ..
ceramic paranoy balls,
bricks
weary machineries … inhalers ,acidic,
vomitus on fire fierce
penhole blades ,beamish doldrums..
carbon
puffballs
of resurrection
of mirror
of worms inherent
smelling like a dead shoe..

’ve lost nails after all…
convoy
school
.
.
fools
of
rust
.
.
banished
of
spoons
.
.
pan
.
.
immense
sausage
pan
.
.
think
no
ladder
doddles
down
.
.
ladder
empty
ladder
.
.
let
me
give
you
up
.
.
his
priest
is
widower
.
.
his
lust
is
sack
.
.
his
nails
are
full
of
sands
.
.