Greg
Eyes Run Dry: Kill the Pretense
I fancy myself the dissection principle
To dance in the moonlight of constipated love
Bring forth the moon to say hello
By its name
The Word calls forth
That which calls forth
Oh so poetic
In its call
Praise the flagstaff hero dance
The tragic expedition into lost romance
By gone, the passing chance
To make love in the moment
Is all over my pants
All over my pain
And regained and alone
The cycle it emerges
As hurtful lost sounds
Words that enframe
And castrate the meaning
Of poetic destruction
Of limited being
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