1994 SEATTLE LOVE SONG

seattle

minor chords amongst the dust
i’m the only one who comes to your show
the ground is littered
with empty bottles of cough syrup
i stand among the wreckage
and i watch you destroy yourself
i can’t look away
from the mirror you hold to me

i can’t escape the morphine sea storm in your eyes
envy’s eyes are as green as yours
envy’s eyes are as green as yours
you’ve got me wrapped up in your small pox blanket

you’re a newspaper fire burning in a rusty trash can
a shopping cart in hashbury at night
you’re not as glorious as i’ve made you out to be

i’m a gas fire and you’re the water
i’m a gas fire and you’re the water

i’ll burn like big giant factories
i will give you a sunset
the color of chemicals

minor chords amongst the dust

you left your phone in the car
along with our 1994 seattle love song
our song of retribution in a wasteland
we are just getting lost in different drugs

what happens when glass slippers slide
on black ice

we are the sound
of an i.v.
drip

i swear you smell
like kurt cobain

you taste like
sonic youth

someone popped
every single one
of the balloons
at our birthday party

someone left the car on in the garage

envy’s eyes are as green as yours
i can’t escape your morphine sea storm

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “TOO FAR DEEP”

About these ads

ANDROID

when you hum
it is less like a song
and more like a hard drive
clicking desperate for attention
overheating
artificial wind blowing through
your metal vents

when you speak
it sounds like
typing on a keyboard
the plastic tap dance opera
of isolated insight
i have to guess
what letter you are typing
to who
and if there is any purpose
at all

your eyes
are glazed over
like two monitors
and if i stare too long
i start to feel dizzy
sick, unproductive

your circular logic
is silver discs spinning
stationary
unnecessary
ready
to be dragged
to the recycle bin

i cannot hear you
lost in the white noise
of endless scrolling
the glass haze
of animatronic nightmare
the weightless dynasty
of your password-protected
intranet

your poetry
tastes like outdated
operating systems

your music
sounds like one thousand
fax machines
proudly projecting their
mating call
across the digital wasteland

you die like a phone
you are reborn
you die like a phone
you are reborn
we are all
just anxiously waiting
the release
of the
newer
better
faster
sleaker
sexier
more creative
more insightful
more imaginative
more delirious
more expensive
edition
of you

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “CALIFORNIA, STOP SWALLOWING MY FRIENDS”