JASON COUILLARD

My palm sliding across dark walls. Stumbling in
excitement through the blackness. The projected
point finds my index and my sight is restored.
Let the eyes roll slowly allowing for respect to
be given to all things taken. Alot more than a
grin to be had for someone has left peace in the
corner. And it's quite clear there's a permanent
stain on my palate. These juices have found a
nest to stage their revolution. Salivating at the
expectance of salvation. The mechanical
masterpiece is more rapidly filling with spirit.
At least enough to muster a smile and set it free
with the westward wind. A midnight whistle
overseeing a heavy whisper to enhance the
rewards once missed. A relentless extension
has been placed in focus, only to allow it to blur.
Once things begin to bleed, then can the ripple
be enjoyed in inconsequential contentness.

-------------------------------------------

The closest star is
rising behind me
intertwined in the
cement labryinth but
not one with it.

A familiar couch wraps
its arms around me
but a feeling of
uncertainty still plays.

A clouded mind leading
a trapped soul
leaving behind another
day to the night
I can't
let go
of.

---------------------------------------------------

Wishes - a table with the following items:
a lighter
a pen
paper
beer
weed
a pipe
water
an orange pill
a white pill
and twenty dollars
just in case







2004 Underground Voices