'From beneath a thwarting world of sheets I can hear the sou

'From beneath a thwarting world of sheets I can hear the sound of her plumes, her minion resources. I am reminded. I don’t understand. I do not refuse. I take to skies with such growth of helium expansion. I am not surprised. The red hound at my feet will tug at its leash. He will never allow me to be late. For perhaps I am lost in this air formed piracy, I will save a cup for rain. I cannot explain this further. For my shirt will hide all diagonal cuts. All burns will leave purple trails and hexagonal foot. And in the axiom of having love, losing love I must say ‘better to be screwed than glued’ in all of this. I do love her still. Though I will sand my expectations down and paint blue sandals on a picture of her. I have learned to use such water color. The perfect dress of shell pink satin and pentimenti. Her retinal lips are the perfect catapult of tangerine. We are not quick to eject from such frame and fortune. For I was with her. I was once adrift. I shall explain it all. But I will change my mind.' - Matt Morris (Lament)