TODAY THE UNIVERSE SHIPPED ME A BROWN PAPER PACKAGE OF WATER

box_of_rain_by_arlen_graffix-d2xqew3

Hollow words, when they show up

under your pen

in your breath

around your head

you go looking for awls, a trephine

TO BREAK OPEN

your head. Your skull… past thickness, depths, mire

TV commercials & evening newsreels.

Where the fuck did they come from?

You want to GOUGE OUT these empty puffs, set them

ablaze &

return them to their rightful owners,

digitalismos tatoo’ing cell phones

on their palms

& little girls who haven’t

begun

to

menstruate.

Firefly backdrops…

Once you listen, once

you hear… no canvas stays blank.

 

The fuckers roam buffalo everywhere!

 

First moves made to hate, until we shuffle

to understanding… it’s not your fault,

baby… they did it.

Art was here.

But not

anymore.

Not anyless.

Not unless we let them take it, and

replace it

with

their

word(s).

HDW

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