Words and Dreams: the Trvavelog

words

i want my words to melt

away from the hustle

away from the back beat anger and thrum

away from subconscious hooks

that suck and syncopate

to stop banging through language like Bukowski

driving, pining into hip hop frenzies

to stop

words should be moonlit

tethered in the ether

with fragile faerie strings

flocking in the haze and blur

of shamanic spirit worlds

cool and pastel

petulant and pliant

pleasing to soothe the black eye of the abyss

a mistress’ cradling of the jagged nerves

a salve to muzzle the hum

a soft and silent night

a sleep, amnesia of

the now