Hindvirgin

Palindromic time is the only
Time I will twenty eleven eleven two makes a couple
bouncing
ever ever thirty three missed the ticker
and you're too good anyway-
what bollocks my younger head, forty five fifty mortality
thought. Green time, red time, black time,
empty head, empty bed, sixty goes back to nothing
in an instant
and I was left with thoughtless phrases circling my hairline
that's it
that's it
that sit
that sit
that's sit
that's shit.
My friend sees me, hears me, sends messages on white bread
I keep close my tactical fucking,
imagine you dismayed five o'clock you call me ten o'clock
but you just want my brain in prime time condition don't want me dead on you
midnight crawling like our children you talk about
your face on a child
2am, 2 thirty five and my eyelids slip onto the hard linoleum
it squawks like some vulgar parrot in the beating, breathing silence.
What loud problems these bildungs romans lend us
what static electricity in their touches, leaping across gaps.
Distorted sleep, glaring eyes
out of the dark room
you thought they were drugged asleep but they drag up
throats vibrating and grasp at your skin, garish.
You learn politics to put a void between you and them, their dirt,
you lie on the mattress watching the jealousy pulled to a peak
and acceptance.