You Said: “Forget about all this nonsense” & speak to me of the World.
1. Standing alone at the Exit.
2. A certain “Period” or an Exaltation of an Utterance, that Tickles the Lips.
3. A Force kissing the Insolidity of One’s being, Being.
4. What is Residually left from each Day’s Booked End, is licked Fucking Clean / Clean.
5. Or One Day, I imagine I should tell you a Story.
6. Or maybe, I should Drop the Assiduous Drive & end against the Framing of unnecessary Details.
7. To just Gorge on this [life] line’s next Entry.
8. The continual Theme of Trapping.
9. Arrested or, Slung or, Dragging a Droning of Our Dipshit Days along.
10. A Thickening Sweating in which we Collapse.
11. Sloping the Body just so, so that it resembles a Sweeping itself along a Floor, I’m Sore.
12. The Guffaw is the Movement of this / this.
13. The Fist knows it.
14. The Figure of a kind of Personalized Haunting Decay.
15. Forming a Fawning in your Face into a Hearing on the Consideration of an End, considering
16. I just plunge Down.
17. In step down the Street, laughing.
18. All our Lives in Thirst.
19. Thaw me towards a Hymn.
20. In order to begin to Exhaust.
21. Being Cold, is Lame, under these Unsteady Skies of May
22. To paraphrase: I alone Trapped a Tracing
23. The Blow which Hymns him burning on the Note of what will be the Body’s Last Supper.
24. In which I Slums.
25. Each Day, I find a New Explanation as to Why I’m Alone.
26. To Attempt to Stop Straining oneself into a Sigh / Sigh.
27. [Sigh]
28. This, is One Variegated Vagabond Version of a Personal Representation.
29. A Hollow [Bodily]
30. Behind the Field, how Desolate the Gangplanks Ache.
31. Awakening in the Palm of the City, in which One is held Nervously
32. Dizzying Mirage of the Murderous Mouth.
33. This is a Renunciation.
34. To Capture, is on Mind.
35. Under the EL Tracks, at night.
36. A Dog is Barking.
37. A Cloud is breaking open upon Eyes.
38. A Rock, is lifted above the Head, in both Hands & Laughing.
39. A Burst of Barking Flesh.
40. Biting Mine Own Lips Down.
41. Desire is so Fundamentally Aggravating
42. The Continent of the Mud of Seething, a way out, into all of This,
43. As if, to begin Snuggling Behind one’s own Skin.
44. The Resieving Slide of Touch.
45. Again, someone passes me by without a Word, Rummaging in, then out of View.
46. Where I am sure to Supper.
47. The Destruction of Describing.
48. The Perfect Proportionate Path of my Face.
49. You’re Laughing, You’re Sweeping & Surely, You’re Shivering.
50. Descent of the Stage & the elongated Error of my Vision.
51. The Famine of this Scene, I see.
52. You can Hear me Coming by the Spatter of my Moans.
53. Walking down the Street terribly fast in order to Out-Distance myself.
54. I had a Dream about you.
55. You were simply a Bore.
56. Aye, there are enough Bores in this Line, interrupting the Conquest of Living
57. & my Casual Sinking into the Bed.
58. I had seen a Voyeur
59. I am The Voyeur, conducting all of this
60. Which I do not, nor will I, remember, come when
61. In the Mouth, this Heart is Porous.
62. I fear this is all Ending.
63. This is a Saintly Staleness
64. I fear this is all Ending
65. I fear this is all Ending as a snowed—in Gesture of Accusations.
66. & just like that, you arrive
67. & the Exit is negated in the_____, hmmmmm
68. I’ve been Meaning for Months to fucking Scream.
69. An Immersion on the Edge, of the Guttural, Eye:
70. Which belong to Mine.
71. To Describe an Isolated Opponent, in which to Capture, is to willingly Isolate oneself.
72. Composing oneself behind a Tremor
73. Tearing away a Turning oneself away which is against Discourse, in a way
74. Or to Efficiently Strike, like
75. From each Death on Forward on, I’m twisting your Hairs, on your Head, around each Finger
76. Which already are of Dust
77. Dust-->showing through, a Gap of Vision which only Exists in Memory, opening slight & slyly before me, only to End
78. Only to End with the End’s perpetuating End
79. How Sadly things so sadly, End.
80. Riding the EL to it’s End, to only Turn it all Around & Begin Again, to the End again.
81. See, I’m Common Enough in the End
82. To instill, an Inner Population, set, as a means for a Dying, Away in a Confession of Love.
83. Or the Space that Prunes Reason.
84. The Turn of the Head, Squeezing out a Description for the Ear.
85. Or the Wound, that doesn’t want to Close.
86. To return once still as to a Former Body, Still
87. The fear of not Evaporating out the Ass.
88. Already I’m another, Creeping with Hunched Shoulders
89. Disclosing the Face, behind this Cold, Simple Sunset.
90. & Still.
91. & Still, according to Some, the Walls of Our Bodies are Brittle, Baby.
92. I’m actually writing this to ease all this Pressure between our Lips that Bare to leaf to Touch.
93. To Capture, the Patience of the Field
94. This is my “I’m Dead Fucking Serious” Stare
95. The immediate Protraction of Heart Palpitations, upon which, you must carefully, I Tread, as if Sweaty Palms were the Source of some Mysterious Opponent.
96. The Biology of my Thoughts include, the Whole of a Eulogy.
97. Your Death, couldn’t be done Justice.
98. & I began a Process of Digging.
99. Finishing now, the Tail-End of Laughter will not keep the Pressure from our Bountiful Mouths that Sink to Frown, or Bruise.
100. You may be Laid on Sunday.
101. Thinking of how small the Street is, walking with you, Hand in Hand, across the Busy Side of the Street
102. A Question of Intentions barrel through our Intersection.
103. Just as we Stopped, you get it Bad
104. I see you, Insides all over, in the Street or, I’m Beside myself in Terror.
105. You are Smiling Dearly, Dear.
106. Out of the Corner of my Eye, I see a Black Bird, above us, Dying, I set it aside, Diverting my Eyes from the Scorching Sun.
107. It’s like I’ve always said
108. This all Hurts too much, as I take a drag of a Cigarette.
109. But it really doesn’t & it really isn’t too much & it won’t be until you’re Dead-On Gone / Gone, Pussyface.
110. Beneath the Street, the Faces peek out, clustering into one thin Chump, staring you Down.
111. A Brutish Crowd gathers before I wake.
112. WHEN THINGS BECOME PRESSURE
113. Things become akin to a Darker Kind of Smile, Closing in on what you thought Chalked up to a Good Time.
114. Yellowing, on the Edges of Pictures, from Youth.
115. Dropping to the knees, in Laughter, on Glass, the Cheek smudged against the Windshield, Cracked.
116. Efficiently He found Solace a few Cities Down—but so that when He would walk back, to the City, He could still see her, through the Window, in her Apartment, with another
117. I’ve been Meaning for Months to fucking Scream
118. I’ve hardly considered telling you this.
