October Country

I’m laying flat on my back,/in the depths of fever,/I know I’m yellow,/addicted to slavery./Scenes of battle fill my eyelids/but attention is focused/on the thick syrup of peaches.Piles of old clothes on the table,/visible when I open my eyes,/sirens and rockets /.shimmer down the street./I hope you look towards the final freeze./After that,I will come to visit./I attempt to control your daydream boundary,/even if it means more calculation.I seize caresses to banish the results.I hold you again,/bareheaded and sullen/thick skull framed by wet thin hair. An inside line on this endgame,please./In the spiral of right and wrong/you hope to bleed my motives./The sidewalk’s tilt/gives way to second nature/compelling  us warily/Relax, flower in your bones./Watch your silent image

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