Surely is not a name

They sound like alarms going off or a pair of tennis shoes rolling around in a dryer or something, i’m not quite sure to tell you the truth - it does seem they don’t break easily, though, so don’t worry, and remember the longest one, well, just try not to draw it, for the roads today are full of grey faces, and i, beneath a violent lantern, laugh to myself, so much so that my teeth abruptly fall to the floor, a ceramic sort of floor, a balancing act between breaking above asphalt upon which my brothers and sisters sweat silent morphemes, or better yet, a few transitory moments of non-sound feigning meaning that went, 'had i known you ten years before, i could have held you with no shame, but the coolness in this thin air reminds me of nothing quite so fantastic'

so
you have driven me
sat beside me
bled me
freely

and
you have commanded me
demanded me
when you were
down

and bells on boots remind me of a swallowed Christmas a certain happiness traversing a sudden throat into a vacant room where [his] black charcoal lines stretch skyward across a warm canvas - a dark field of wheat where the last hint of a headful of midnight hue flows, slides, slips, feeds the earth it’s residue.