victitious

creamy peach

blotches

grumble and snort

beside me rolling over

rolling down

as of a canvas, in blotches

oil paints and it bleeds through the sheets

seeping down and soiling the mattress to the coils

like these

sand tan musics Sonoran

blank faced, mute mouthed

Syd Barrett style stare in flashes

striking in bolts at every vectors I am

in knowing and in knowing laughs

soaking through my whole and staining my body to the bones

as though

off white

irises

dilate at any other prospect but a lie

like lilacs laid pallid 

as of a drug induced sacrifice of surplus, anyway, goats

who are warm milk-machines

perforated for pleasures

who are

grazing

on auburn peaked mounds

swelling with the rain, swollen from the rain

that streaks across canvases such as these

pooling up in lakes of amber melted candle wax

stinking with the burn of a flesh offering

dripping hot

down the legs

of the bedframe

pooling up in the moat I made

around the bed as a mess on the floor

G.enerationalized A.pathy D.isorder

Having learned nothing I now sit alongside my status as a well-educated, highly-valued resource for many of the few giant-huge corporations that now control every facet of the living that produced my highly desirable status.

I clutch a plain mug of the coffee I have come to love over many nights holed up in darkish cafes further and further down the road from the expensive community I was made aware I was fortunate to have financed my way into.

When it comes to feeding myself I can zap a bowl of easy mac but I don't know how to plant tomatoes and when it comes to my own happiness I could write an analysis of ways I am likely to feel in a variety of situations and compare myself to other subjects real or hypothetical but I could not make a poem about what I am feeling now.