20 percent of a 20 cent sunset


I read it this way; it drops, becomes a list that is not, advances as a mad dog. the backdrop looks miniature. my eyes fixate on spattering foam. jarred back by a removal of my own flesh; a remorse code comes in loud and clear; the typical punishment mode, but with a hint of the sea. layers later; harmony point. a separate flow, a location, the cross hairs, dead flowers and a mad dog. the fierce innocence is fear, bred into paranoia, deep suited diamonds burrow into the mind’s foothold. there is a minefield, that's arrogance. someone says, it is contemporary. no water anywhere. later, which I take to be right now, there is a bleak slip, a name that names itself. everywhere is color with no reflection, that is not seen. just lips, teeth and mad dogs. I do not know the first time, maybe pools of red punctured membranes. the city ceased to be anything, but hot pockets and festering sores. there is the usual without addresses, striped of probability. all known. almost knew. I had no idea. but you knew. only a few knew. all the numbers had lice; the tree has an image problem. there was a constant hunt or worship for mad dogs or dead gods. at that moment, a known before hand foretold of pneumatic possibilities. everywhere grated smiles and triangle behavior. no buzz on irrational christians. everyone laughs then dies. matter is certain everyone is mad. the dog seems fine. it hit me later, later was tomorrow. that will be or is the day we takeover. sit down do not get overly excited, you are on random, this is normal. you send your bills in on time. cheat on the way you will be killed; bargain for a new living room set. settle on a mock makeover. “my dear . . .” is how it begins, “we will have to kill you or the dog, depends on the test; it will take a year in isolation.” saved by the bell. it is a grab bag and you're it. everything all over is really over, but at the precise moment there is a heavy clank. you swallow blue surroundings. pleasure lifts its head and leaves. I read the sentinel, had no ideal but knew it would happen. the headline will read. you are infallible, perfect and you die again. the dog is never found.