system down April 17

a glance
I refuse to be sunk in smoke
many times I obey
but then I dream at night
refusing to accept guilt.
short-circuit in my mind
I must speak nonsense
jump on foam.

water in my garden
my socks are drenched
my ears are wet with pink acid
and everything is slow-motion. rejoice.

paper bullets
how many times do I want to die?
fall as often as its fun,
dripping like a mop
ring a bell?