veracruz blues

string eyes stretching into black

and when you have used up all of your meaningful smiles and professional eyelashes and the hour is late and nobody seems to be using the words you’re looking for and your arms seem rude in their solitude and you can’t draw an anatomically correct depiction of your beast. when your pencil slides all over the pages without your consent and turns every drawing into something already seen. when you find yourself sitting on a balcony alone without time and you feel the whole beauty of veracruz blues. know that i am with you. you lost me years ago and probably you’ve forgotten i was there to begin with but i am the one who tightened your strings when you started holding court with rotating necks and i was the one who made you sick when you ate sharpened skewers on enamel platters. and yes at times you are not mistaken you have felt yourself on the rim of terrain about to flip. you have noticed twitchings on the edges of things but when you focus your gaze everything becomes still and frustratingly shiny but you can’t let it go you are waiting for something to crack you want so much to be rewarded for staring in corners and always missing the point and now listen i am giving you a hint almost illegal: keep waiting.


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