Houdini

2004-07-28, 3:05 a.m.

this is a wonderful magic trick that you have performed on me. Houdini looks inwards, studying your approach and -with an even more discrimnating eye- your exit. the walls of my mind seem to be wiped clean of the scars of war, and the streets are swept clean of rubble, but i always look up into the same sky, and the same clouds change from orange to green to purple when the day becomes dusk becomes night. this is where the changes are needed, and this is where your ellusive presence needs to take hold, smoking eyes and all-to-hazy after thoughts that ruin me in the end.

the lights turn from dead to green, and i hear a buzzing; i heard a buzzing all day. underneath the desk is a silent play of subtle tones, with receeding depths that intrigue me, so i stare a bit while i think of what to write.

<.<.<.<.process.>.>.>.>

it comes back to the way things-walls, glass,plastic-take the shape of lonely strangers when this is the only light. i can see this glass, half full of stagnant, bubbled filled water raising its voice to say hello in the city streets; wanting human contact. this cd is sitting along a gutter, waiting for the next fix, with a stare the reveals a distaste for time and, therefore, a total denial of its power. light switch garbage saint, atop a milk crate preaching to the intrinsic audience who lean to the left, far away from the clattering cross and the droning verse of the old testament.