archive: 11 september 2005: random poem

I am a night-time smoker, and you are my wet dream touching me deep, long-fingered under moonlight, streetlight. Nicotine, caffeine... both alkaloids in my blood moving faster, hotter, polluted. Staring at one red star, tiny and barely distinguishable. Unflinching it rides through me, flaring sparks out as I rise. Night air feels dark, invisible feeling this electric flood. No sound but a sigh, long-drawn. Two planes cross the sky, lights blinking: mistaken stars. Night feels brighter than seconds before the sparks rose within. I am a night-time smoker, and you are my wet dream touching me deep, long-fingered under moonlight, streetlight. ...... just wrote this.... I think I am going to blast some Chris Pureka on my headphones and sew those damn squares now.