van hoosen / sugar birds

what are you... i mean... 
you know me.
i guess, i mean, it's just...
eh, i'm tricky.
hehe, you are, you are
so how are you? 
well, i booked a flight, thank god
  i was just thinking about what a great friend you were
  how you treated me like a teacup full of hot blackness

my camera
ride 'em cowboy
twang us 'cross yards
to the majestic strip malls
a bunny out of a hat, a woman
crawling on all fours on a pew
come hithering her ripening 
body, so ready, but...
not... just... yet...
the tapping beat
machine guns

if heaven is a dying brain-thing
the soul is a cluster of  atoms
setting out elipses, hopeful
ego's sacred breadcrumbs 
ah, yes, of course
and festering
(like me)

i'm dumb and scared to die
and never see my loved ones
painfully aware of what lies ahead
i'd just as soon as off myself
than declare myself captain
god of my own pathetic
he can be a he
i'm not a feminist
and don't care about
controlling anything
but my own sanity
and frightened

i'm a fucking idiot, 
but not because i refuse
to give up on magic's denial

in that pond behind the school
collected in a glass vial
analyzed under a scope
is a solar eclipse
of terrifying 

when i 
was twelve
i used to hide
on dead branches
high with instinct
eyes stuttering fast
like scared blue-birds
changing into evergreen
and muck, when gathered

i didn't not fuck you because of sin
but because i was afraid you'd kill me

19 thoughts on “van hoosen / sugar birds

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