Outlast the Winter (brainstorm/rough draft)

In these depths of green spiky leaves and tumbled turves
masses sitting still
my mind tangled in webs of conceit
bound over for sale signs on the foreclosure of my dreams
for servitude to another man's time
another time's times.

Shining light crescendos an arc that suits as the star fruit
eaten at intervals but unknown to the North American white man:
the ignorance of European descent enjoy a Chiquita
while not understanding that 600 million humans live by principle on bananas.

Return to virtual reality waiting patterns in the deep azure sky
planes fly by chem-trails draggle behind and my oh my they fly by
light like dagger strikes death to my heart.

Maybe I can be heard, maybe I can ask this question but would it be answered
letter's written house phone call cell phone satellite phone
Skype me to tears that incessant bouncing ringing sound
like techno bubbles rising through electronic brine.
IM me FB me Message me but never talk to me.

Pumped full of adrenaline in the cold air, too embarrassed to speak
we shit as we breathe leaving entrails behind,
inhale the oxygen and then contaminate our bodies beer wine marijuana
there are worse things...
crack cocaine waits in my hair for the next drug test
heroine courses through my veins until the next death..
I we become a generic pharmaceutical stereotype of human degeneration
disorders infecting our souls if souls its true we have
a bigger debate than I can answer in one sitting,
God upper or god lower he she it mono poly
marriage of gays of straights who cares stop.
care about other people's care:
and the same people that cry for government to mind its own business
want to know who I fuck, want to know
who caresses my cold airs on a winters night
want to tell me what to do when damn them who tell them what to do.

Silent air is stirred by the barren call of a lost dog
who hopes without knowledge of a kennel come calling:
adoption or euthanization
better more than the meager food pods of shit scattered among leaves
sewers draining periphanalia could ever offer this human discard dreg
not fed
but up to its legs in a spreading hardening cold
whimper cry still air sounds pass through weak windows
cold weak windows but somehow I still last the winter.