shan

I have a mechanical smile, flowering cherry-lime trees and lavender ink balm slithering in slick envelopes like a lepers skin. Crushed pebbles and oily anecdotes. So much has changed, no longer a narcotic sky overhead blazing and blistering the living countryside with blueberry OxyContin clouds and consumptive heroin addicts in the drench. Strewn like cruel sticks, unwanted and unkissed unloved skeletons, wild eyes, cow eyes gushing and opalescent cranberry canals, tomato torches lit and burnt into ordinary eyes, sad eyes and caustic sunlight solarium's, a smooth  metal rail and hanging bowls of milk plants, Persian Brown orchid spiders and the slow waltz of you and I, your warm wetness and trembles of fingers unlocked, your precious lips and melodic voice, the faded green tile and how the antique wood on the balcony curls badly with the rain, curls like your toes and humming mouth, the murmurs of bleak hospital hallways; oceans of toxic clorox through the cracked windows and inside orchards, the vegetable gardens and sodden mahogany writing tablet, the pristine searing packages and dampening dust ; yet another lifeless pen taken from a glass jar, miles and miles of strawberry smiles, writing again like a broken heart, broken junky teeth and broken breathing, how I drizzle on this beloved balustrade, how I continually make bleary ink blots your pretty eyes will read, you have pretty eyes, the most beautiful eyes.