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Memory Foam

by B. Bernthal's Memory Foam

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1.
In the garden of delight I was digging up a weed I was feeling like a rose clenched between your rows of teeth. You were chewing off my thorns. You were slathering the stem. You were sharpening your horns. You were shutting out my friends. But when I found you later with a suitcase in your mouth, you said "save me", I said "save yourself." Under the staircase churns all the hatefulness we hide. You said "take me," I said "die." So when the day grows dim, point the flashlight to your mind. I'm the friend you can't find. In the valley of the eye, I am frozen in the stare. The clouds suspended, petrified, like a nightgown on a nail. All the color's been bled dry, knocked off by the gavel's strike. We are lucky if we lie to ourselves in this greasy black and white. But when that phone call comes, usher out your surprise witness. Make your argument for mental illness. Is it a glove that fits, or are the hands too big with blisters? Where's the swollen corpse in the cistern? But when by pardon comes, wipe the soil from my name. I'm the friend you can't blame.
2.
Sparrows 05:01
When the lights went out in town, all the speakers stayed, played on a'blaring proverbs from your mouth. You sung 'sweet caress,' reached through the reverb, somewhere else in time, with your hands and mouth and feet a'clapping backbeats through my spine in the basement of my understanding. So he split some trees just to watch them burn and the fire brought together everyone he loved. If I had not loved him, I would not hurt. He was living for the thrill until he lived no more. But he rode so far on his broken bike. There were seven little babies that were born that night. But the night grew parched and it swallowed life. But he said he'd be reborn into a beam of light. Beyond the purposelessness clause, beside the restless landing, he flung young listlessness aside. Man, I appreciate those sighs, but truths are honest sparrows tapping with beaks on bedroom windows. Beyond the path trap set and sold, beside the bloated trash bin, he found the basement to be fine. He set a tent up in his room. Man, I appreciate those sighs, but truths are honest sparrows tapping with beaks on bedroom windows.
3.
Teenagers' arrows split through the sparrow's bones, small and narrow, watch her light leak out deep in her dead eyes, where your own fate lies. Forget the franchise of bail bonds and bulbs. Lighting the hallways, keeping the kids safe, motorized walkways and gentlemen's clubs. Watch as it washes over the lashes: fluids through flashes of what have we done. Series of lyrics spill from the faucets: milk from the prophets of gluttonous stops.

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released July 3, 2015

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B. Bernthal's Memory Foam Indianapolis, Indiana

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