Bedbugs XXVII

Bedbugs XXVII


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Calling me over and over while oscillation patterns
dance like light and degrees of temperature and form and
suicidal intentions laid into patterns of color,
making a point with metal. No matter what, lost measured
hope can be found between the cracks if you look close
enough with those special glasses that strange man
left you. 432 senses were deadened down to five or less,
welcome to the world. No matter what’s in the test pattern,
you’ll find it interesting. Bright color exists, you just have
to clean the grit off your eyes to find it. Bluish moonlight
comes from the same place as the music, slow dancing
in the room’s corner is a shriveled figure you’re mostly
encouraged to forget. No doubt in the scared girl’s mind as
she steps away and the music we’d heard in all those
empty buildings warbles forth..it had been a man. Hands extended,
I think. Invitation to some place and ritual that’s too exciting
and nightmarish to comprehend. Picture yourself out in the field.
It can still find you there, no matter that’s why I won’t call back.

Next week's seven phrases/groups of words:

-the song ended ten minutes ago
-curvature in the metal spinal replacement
-break open the wooden box and remove it
-light reflected in all of the pools
-experience at eighteen frames per second
-complaining about only two of them

-match made in Heaven, if there is one.

-Adam