A morning to nod off in

Where the joint is, hold onto that
like you were holding your own body.
Must not tire it nor bruise it as you
would to people who feel and feel like
the mountain people die on and the houses
others die in, lonelier, more high on
their brain than atmosphere. The eyes,
notice them though they don’t notice them,
the temple in the head of a friend you’d
stroke or abolish. Is but harder wood
their body makes and is never all that strong,
not when they fall on their feet contorted
or fall on you, drunk, not, fall so good
giving pressure if nothing else as you wonder
do I feel this? Am I alone now? Am I
doing magic on my thoughts just to feel?

~ by Jeremy on January 13, 2011.

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