Words

again.
storm cloud dyed eyes stare out into the electric landscape. linear sea monsters shake and convulse up the walls, ripping down old newspapers stuck there by 98% humidity. on this 58 degree summer day. she dreams the reality of you. all bones and blood, jugular veins and marrow.or something else. 12% tea leaves and dirt. 50% empty bullet shells. 33% old pages of poetry books. 5% celluloid.
'i can't wait any longer'.
writing out the lighting and thunder on 1/2 of the right side of a typewriter. in tangerine ink and paper the color of dust. hands scarred in a million different ways crush and uncrush the empty pages. spreading ink once again up the walls and cementing in the monsters.
'i know'.