Bedbugs XXIX

Bedbugs XXIX

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Measured and metered sounds that fall outside the range
your ears can pick up. It's driving me crazy, unborn and aborted
ideas and ideals practiced out of societal context. Memories
that get fractured before they're even planted firmly in
frontal lobes lined up eagerly waiting for something,
anything, besides reruns. Light in your attic
was put there by the man I won't speak about.
I manage the same place as the music. Then
where does the light come from?
Feeling and following my own lead brings eager
groups back to the mental slaughterhouse. Pretension
is on the first floor, talkers and doers have been brought
upstairs though nobody's heard from them again. Two of
them can reach it but they're waiting until someone
gives them financial incentive.
Waking up, she knows someone has been there. Selling and
not buying her memories. One door ahead tells her to wait,
the other tells her to listen to her own tune they put
in her head. Matter of silence- this is the song's best part.



Next week's seven phrases/groups of words:


-dissolved into bits smaller than
-wolf in the bleached forest
-pulling color from the leaves
-don't make me care
-silk under me
-one more time is yearned for
-best to leave this one alone


-Adam