is a summer night

that a careless hand left in the middle of no place

dust roads and

posing street lamps limping across the landscape 

they cripple the elderly sunshine

that isnt sunshine at all

white noise dinner 

doesnt exist in the first place

and if something formal should ever capture

the kitchen table

we can all pretend that 

something isnt wrong

white noise dinner is explicit consciousness 

it is excentuated senses only born in certain types

of fear

swallowing is such a task i have to close my eyes

to do it

v-v-v-v-vibration of forks

equal earthquakes turning the house

to dust

white noise dinner is my perception

dead end sentences

i down spoonfulls of honey in the afterwords

i beg them to stop my organs from shaking

crush them with thier heaviness

all in my head

white noise dinner

a pile of crispy words

somebody dares to breath

"will you please the salt?"

and ---