| Thunder Sandwich #17
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 dweeb by jeff filipski |
| the death of butterflies I'm amazed at my sight in the mirror bouncing back reverse trying to dig past the retina and swim through the arteries, deep down inside as if to find a nucleus to the soul I rise in the morning firm in my resolve eager to be at the finish line looking back over my shoulder reminiscing the escapade otherwise known as my Life at the core of most contemporary talk I see nothing accomplished that a bowel movement wouldn't supersede I look out the window somehow I see things as they are truly trying to be: take that leave out there on the sidewalk dying the cancer of winter frozen stiff formaldehyde on the concrete I peel it open with my eyes and fly through it's pain I over intoxicate myself at parties in order to escape their repressing chatter and in the morning my head drums hangover red, pulsating rapid machine gun vibration to dirty to chatter, to mad to bond I save the style for the stylized I shit freely in the company of animals I excuse myself from the table I walk to a different tune straight down the path least chosen I camp on the beaches of the mind watching the waves rise above my head crashing down and sending me to my heels gasping a watery breath when I was a child there was a god, a need for meaning, motivation towards the magic, I've since learned of the death of butterflies and lilacs woke up screaming in nightmare fantasies trying to dial 911 as mother lay in a jail south of the mountain side average suburban afternoon tv tube got me in a trance staring blankly at the signal saving my secluded heart from fire and hate freeing myself in sloth as I eat away the tears of abortion freaks and pregnant teenagers with hand down pants watching spring break on mtv in the prime of my youth. |
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| ISSN: 1534-4037 |
Edited by Jim Chandler & Haze McElhenny
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