The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

all day i sit at this fucking screen, not fucking
but the brain's left hemisphere's twitched and reamed
again with crystals shunting cells decayed and sucking
out the last dim landscape i might have ever dreamed .

fingers stall, breath couples hard with chills
against a bandaged mind and damaged brain .
no longer shall i climb that landscape's hills
and turn towards tarn shined dark with bloody rain .

i'm born here, died here, screen looms, the world is flat,
dead animals pour from sour skin, i shake
for something else got wrong then right, a scat
i leave behind, the drowned dream drains the lake .

my fucking flesh reamed sucking wires dreamed .
my fever's rising, chills turn the brain's hills rain
of flat blood, gave a shake of scat now steamed
then charred, lakes slake, sparks suffocate again .

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