iam alone with my electricity (3)

did our somber cells originate in the white, cresting waves, or in the array of languages and dialects prancing merrily down the street?: yellow gorilla masks pinned to what is seen in reverse, the blasphemy needed to expose the dictionary to summer's criminal caress: your hands vanish in the red and blue precision over there on the verge of collapse, blinking its way into a dimensional paper clown, of sorts, before this moist theory of stars and disembodied smiles: intergalactic news travels via the black waters that leap from your shoulders, my doubt crawling across the rooftops along with the blood of fours: the most exalted curvatures should wear flour sacks and listen to the organ's propaganda drone throughout the cities in your jewelled beret, as far as i'm concerned: priests, cops, bosses, the male penis, these are all velvety-smooth paws after communion, a quick peek at soft silvers, just to be sure there are tiny cuts on my heart