galluzzo

outside, a throbbing murmur
the florentine wind is crisp with regret
dancing beneath the blinds
breathing melancholy

from the bed she beckons
glistening through the black

a cylindrical bathhouse in tierra del fuego

children dancing like steam
sweat it out
beat it out
she's a good dancer but she's got eyes for everything

icarus

boy thinks he can play
but the pieces don't wish to move
remaining rash
ever impetuous
in over his head
should've quit while he was ahead

fourteenth

spouting falsehoods is my druthers

lucid

there are moments
when my thoughts meander
a bubbling image of luminescent mass
comes into sight
pulsating, writhing
a vision of united sin
of all man’s indulgences
wrapped up into a single
thrashing dream
lumbering, blasting
through my reality
until all i have left
is a subtle inkling of expectation
these times i cannot tell
is this hallucination,
or have i slipped into hell?