19
Apr
11

beauty is a beast

it was filthy years ago
in the pit of the ugly light
too much to write in the air
pages lying and still making
room for human feeling and breeding
miserables as if they never were expressed before
a hyperbolic imagination of someone swimming
even a lazy sentence, or an essay irrelevant
or something feminine with illuminations
exiled in courage through syntax
rain can never be so straightforwardly
sneezed out and spit out to the self
close to weightless pink lunch
with ideas above common sense and complacency
the casualties of length and gap
goose pimples rising on the hypertexualised generation
elegance sickness from contemporary individuality
a piece of hair between each letter, slavery and misery
the glossy sunrise, the gloomy sunset
the voice of a generation next to noon
 
-th


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