Does the melody really stab
like a blade made of wind
or am I just being
melodramatic again.

Did I ever tell you of the man with a head filled with cheese who saturated his own underpants with gasoline and danced with epic abandon through flaming hoops over the roof tops of Our Town. It was dusk and with the sun beginning to tenderly kiss the horizon there was the lighting of 1000 backyard grills in unison. The tree tops were shaking with laughter at the sacrifice of meat. Or maybe it was just the breeze.

He came screaming and on fire and left a shockwave ringing in his wake.

X2

The lack of breath.
He holds it in,
and he's inattentive to the knives
as he clings ever so desperately to himself
shuddering in blood.
He has taken his eyes out
and placed them in his mouth
between his teeth,
crunching down,
the liquid rolls down his chin.
A slight incision made to grasp
under the chin
he pulls his face back.
His skull is shining
mandible working up and down
into a laughter that echoes out
over the exposed bones.
Such a tight skin it was.
His skull is tingling.
(it's the air that has always been naked)
He begins taking the breaths back,
lighting a match
places some fire
where his eyes were
and dances between birth and murder
the world exploding around him all the while.