Nostalgia The lucid dreaming of driving the headlights burn tunnels, stare hole like Superman into the night the Venturi effect inhales the car the night closes behind like a tight sphincter Eat My Exhaustion I am going where the figurative becomes literal Replacing opium dreams with black leather hallucinations The Emerald City - St. Francis, the City of Beaten on a breakup night My future ex-girlfried nurses the department store dummy back to health even though she doesn't recognize me in my purple and black make-up - the Past - Flash forward to the present - She smiles as if the Yesterday were nothing but gumdrops and dandelion wine as if she weren't unhappily married to a high-wire rigger in a three-ring family circus. She says she fuck me for nostalgia's sake (Who the fuck's Nostalgia?) If we could find an empty room and I search around desperate, but there's no time She kisses me and says, "I love you. I love you. I love you," but there's no time, and she says, "I hate goodbyes," and I'm getting ahead of myself again. Sand in a leaky hourglass My life drains from me like/// blood in the face of a man who is told his seed is worthless, his son is dead the blood collects in his heart like a chalice to steel it against the coming nostalgia Nostalgia so ephemeral, becomes solid HITS him like a rock and he sways on his feet like a punch-drunk boxer who doesn't know he's knocked out swaying like an overweight transvestite hula dancer in a rundown downtown bar remember: the head is useless the heart - priceless St. Francis is lit like a Christmas tree on a Sausalito ferry ridden at midnight I say to my future ex-friend who's a girl, but not a girlfriend I say, "I've traveled 1,000 miles to see you - Farewells should be said face-to-face, close enough to smell your anger and taste your last goodbye and see our friendship fade like a burnt cigarette butt flicked off a third-story balcony or headlights burning tunnels into the night our goodbyes closing behind us like a tight sphincter. Like faulkner's palms will you be my Rememberer? crushing cyanide tablets against jailhouse walls consigned to sucking dick in memory of me? I have fantasies of slicing my left pinkie off and handing it to you (This is how much I care) Stoopid meaning as much and as little as the head of John the Baptist to Salome -but not the writing hand committing the sin of Onan (even you are not worth that much) I leave you St. Francis - never liked you anyway You're the cum spat on the sidewalk from a 20$ trick and I hate you. Your a woman from the high plateaus on a trapeze built for 2 and I love you. You're the friendship I left bleeding on the street and I could care less. Yeah, let's fuck nostalgia but there's no time and I'm getting ahead of myself again.          WangZen