"Our Simplest Form, was when you Embraced me, in the Morning, under the Sheets" - Boris Izsus
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I
Acute, to------>Sink for a time, on the outskirts of the City, we accept a strange word----->Bodysinking them answered, The Ambassador of a Secreting Library, a handful of seeds, with a flame, as a bubble, to swarm unquestionably-----à& then, the ravaged elements------->The Body exceeds attraction, The Great trip/up of Speech, Sinking-------->Grief then, is the puncture in, not of, the needle thrust--------->Thus, the Sickening Stir of the Universe & Centering the Foot in a Swim of Sinking at the closing of 1980, I tangled in the store window caught is my Reflection.
Thus:
1. Everything which Remains, remains to be a soon-to-be Figure of the Subject to Destruction
2. I too acknowledge, the Tightening Abrasion of the Faces peering out from The EL Train
3. & along the Tracks at Night, perhaps this/is my Damming.
4. Deposit me there, in those Faces, a means to Completion.
5. Or: I love so much, so much.
6. & I am slowly Working on my Way to a Sinking within a City Built on a Swamp
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II
1. Sometimes, I imagine a violent form of Seeing you; an engulfing of the Face, consumed, in the Sink.
2. The image of this, through a Hole, which I wish to squeeze the entirety of The Body into, we Sink.
To touch the Body, itself, might be objectionable, taking an Affect as Property. That is why, I come to you, in a Brutal Kiss we Sink, for the Body itself, is no Singular Pantomime, I Sink---------->Thus to manipulate, in a possible new restraint: Sinking is the ultimate Object of The Action. Frozen lumps of earth, whose mouth begin to blossom, slowly of a Sinking in Hunger.
1. Thus, Scupper me, on which, I Sink
2. Sums, a stostovian, combustion, carumbling
The Face, smashing against, opening itself, under the Feet, through a single Blow. Methods of Sinking then reduce to a visible Event, carrying it all out, in a Split Second, we Sink. To bring us both down, to Apply the Abstraction itself. Wearing a black veil then, we remain barefoot, remain closer to the ground, gnawing upon the Primitive I wish to fucking announce.
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The insignificance of the Face I trace with my fingertips, my Face is cold paw & in the Trial of the Structure of my Pulse, I witness in a Grid you behind, descending slowly upon me & it is then while scraping my cheek raw, that I announce: the terrifyingly distinct Map of my Face, leaves me burning here in Desire to explode the fuck out.
1. But honestly, I don’t remember that.
2. But I do remember studying my Face longing for a transformation that could begin within my expanding Mouth, sinking.
III
My Face shakes, from The Top of the Head on down, when Aroused or the Cramping in the Chest which suggests,
there is a Bumper to Bumper Tension Building in the Body.
1. Thus to Awaken is still Improbable.
2. It’s the saliva of the amorous.
3. Not here, the weather inside is a poor man dreaming of a worker’s comp
4. We’re all left dreaming on some floor of the hospital
5. & last night we danced while
6. & after the words, the Warning
7. I remembered nothing but the lake in youth
8. In which I Floated & I did not Swim & sank down instead paw
IV
Now, that this/is personal in/sight, denotes----------->”I am not Desiring to be a Representation” puts into Play a Question of Personal Revelations, to recondition the General Movement sought in the Other Forms to the Point, I study myself Flexed in sadsack Glory in which you came against this Contorting Space of my Form, which diagrams before you the Articulation------->”All I have Sought, I have been” stalking the City in my Dogged Delight more or less or, more or Less this Vanquished in Short upon the History of my Life as a Dog is of Geography, sinking.
Thus----------------------->to Despise the need for a Subject, Arrest
V
Presuppose now, my use of Exercise for Personal Arousal the Resultant Series of Obscurations in which The Doctor’s tell me to “Lay Down”—&—“Tuck it all Back in” which is more Abstract than needs to be thus--------->I Object, this Gradual Incline Expunged along the Thickening Thorough of my Body that Appears Daily in the Crowd, abhorred to Feast upon Others Feasting upon, The Digests our Ambiguous History which retraces, Defines in Sketches the Outward Advance in fact, this all is Reduced to a Promise which I have been unable to Avoid: This Searching in an Order of Filing away a Tension while being Directed, aggressively as a Subject, is a Form purely of a terrorfoundation to articulate the Experience of this Body, rooted itself in sludge. Thus, performing in the Shallow Space in which the Body, pulls it’s Weight of Hymns as Irreducible Sedimentations or, Mammoth Congestions or, a Forgotten Dimension in which to Attempt the Eventual Agony of the Starting-Point, in which to Escape from the Incarceration of the bodylimits along the Skin, Shitting itself of the Hast External Demands in which you Lay, upon me, from whence I appeared to you in Doubt & turned to Witness, “We didn’t Exist” here, in this World which was Sleeping Serenely over the Rumble of the Bound us to Down to, each Bound to the Back, O’ how we had been Bound Down.
Thus------------------>what a Paradoxical Dick-Release
Thus, to be always, Open from the Voice on Down, traversing this Act of Pillaging the Parts or, I’ll sink as soon as I Sink, the Sinking imposed upon my chestsink. The Problem of this Insidious & Threatening Reduction to a mere Question before The Eyes denotes---------->“I Sink” thrō the Field I Sink or reflexively disappear in a Sinking Determination of the Whole Landscape wields itself embedded in a Shriveled-Up Man, sinking & inverted upon a Shadow the Non-Elastic, I’m Sinking---------->towards a Blurred Projection of out the Ground or, endman on the Horizon, on the Background, absorbed in an Endless littleswhittlepittle Mutter.
V
Thus, my Conception of the City which is Silent, which is a Darkness that Sinks right Across Me.
