The Day Is Not the Same. the Day Is Gone.

Over a yellow River of {Drunken} Smiles, A Dove, faded by erasures and weeks suffocating Crashing rotten Joy--- ****** Smell of Arrested Motion Coming swift without Warranty or Return Policy Almost invisible Dusty Distance Crossed in the Span of Half past a Width, The Corner of Oblivion, Bliss And some terrible cockney Face Cat Calling Agony. (Who {btw} Doesn’t respond) Suddenly Leering, Voices at our Side--- ---- “Just the Thing to Clean a Mans Blood” {Pause.} {Blank Stare.} --------Looking down at Himself “Damn! That pissing croakers really certified…” {Walking Away} Glad as The Street drowns the Voice like Kittens or Babies (Unwanted) And the Cold finds me, for Some reason {Newly Refreshing} The Hand behind, takes, Fingers Warm And Softer then they aught to Be. Eyes Shining, with Cold elastic Birds dwelling within. Drunk {Sss} miles Leering, from the Shadows, I glance over, He laughs, (I have no Idea why) And I watch as Erasures, Weeks, Years, Take another swipe of him Away. Just a Memory… Something, As if Spilling: Some Thin strand Effete Green eye And Silvery, Persistent Honey. The Swallow That even Sleeping, Flying, Lives on my Eyes. {+} or {='s} Decisions bursting Forth, some nocturnal voice, with a shout. {a Dead Dove, With a Number!} I Dial the china Blue Sky and Drifting clouds, fear flickering In and out of my Eyes. (Click) (Words that would, --------then }go Here) Your voice ripples when I touch it, like a River… No Longer a Bird, I Realize… Nothing but a Sad voice… Rotted by Time. (I Hang Up the Phone) And then Life... just… Continues on… -thend-