1. Waking up, with your Hand in your Face, you think, this is my way of not Disappearing----->
2. Disappearing, along The Faces, in which The Earth could quickly Shut Down, in a Manner that would not be, of The Body----->
3. The Body, how it longs to Gorge itself in something Elemental, something Barrier-Breaking, something that could come from The Whispers, in your Ear or, I’m against being Degraded----->
4. Degraded within the large scope of “i insurge” in the Flood, in which I embodied the Weight of a Swamp, in which the Limits flaunt the Sign, in which was a rotgot the Stench of the
5. Pose, your Entire Head now, craned to Port the View to 80 Floors above, the Primal Slippage of the Horror you focused-------->
6. Focused to think, how so many of The Fallen, Fell the 80 Floors to the streetfloor Down, so Sadly how we all Fall, Down---------->
7. Down a region to the Dead be to The Face, this basis of Fear that comes lisping to your Heart like a Person doomed to the cutting oneself under or, not to be bothered with Dreaming the fractioning of which, cannot be of Awe but of a closepressing clump, Collapsing--------->
8. Collapsing, you always new, it was the Tiniest of Things, which Begged at your Feet, at your entire Face, entwined in clumps in the Fist in a clumpfist those that Begged, so sweetly they Begged for an Immersion into Abstraction--------->
9. Abstraction: coming in a Cold Layer or, the inability to locate oneself within a Memory said to be of oneself, Framed------------->
10. Framed, thus I was unable to Sleep autoexhausted & the Forms Ceased where a Voice was Bathing in a Horribly Bright Landscape, that slanged Men to Death---------->
11. Death & The Family Album, the Wink of which suggests “Nothing is Right” & nothing can be right when the Wink prefaces the lips of a Ghost------------>
12. Ghost: the anti-human Structure—[s] the most Paranoid conversation that Depletes us all, simply to Asunder, simply to the Forms of a felt Intimacy defying Exposure to those who occupy the Excavations of Vacant Migrations---------------->
13. Migrations from the Restrictions of one’s Locality, of the Sovereign Hostility & how then, The Body escapes into a Fantasy-Substrate swallowing whatever resemblance of Home that could Remain---------------->
14. Remain in the Throat, these Forms, frenzy to form to Deform the Skeleton so that, so that so The Body would give itself away to a Sense of Everything, leaving everythingeverything Behind--------------->
15. Behind this Sudden Disappearance, the Body will Surrender to detonate this Relationship between Us-------------->
16. Us: is the Fact of the Matter is, the second phenomenon that is without Form as follows: Illegible Eyes----------->
17. Eyes in which there were to be kept no secrets or, the Conquest to Erase the Head------------->
18. Head: an End of an Era—[?] no End in sight so we go/on so Sleepily so--------------->
19. so the Lunging towards this or that Act, but The Body remains frozen 80 Floors up, puddying itself in a Perpetual moment before the Strike, before all that came before which neverever, has never belonged to me------------------>
20. Me applies to many as Well, as attachments that might be Described as Bodies to Fill, the Fringe in the Personal Immersion “here I am”------------ >
21. am reaching The Face from The Body, behind itself, so to
22. You Collapsed, petrified, as if, The Body were a leaky Sight, an interior against off/slash, simply there, The Face birthing itself through a “Mean Little Cocksucker” Parade----------------------------->
23. Parade: I won’t either, in the End------------------------------->
24. End: Your Life above me, Your Life below me, your knowing how Beautiful everything always was Above Thee, how you rose Above Thee-------------------------------->
25. Above & then to The Mud, what Purpose, is there really my Love—[?]------------------------->
26. Love, in the Chunky Wait of Night, whee the Faces yawl in Ecstasy in a Space that sings “Dear Buddy / Dead Buddy” is the End of The Monologue, in which we Slip forward to the Last----------------------->
27. Last: to Drop to Sleep, with the Slowness of a Procession that Obliterates all Focus on beware---------->
28. Beware: The assurance through the Slips of a Boast, in which he thought he was Blessed------------>
29. Blessed because “I’m in Charge” of the wrecks-------------->
30. wrecks this Shifting of The Body, in this Building shacks me in this Horror of The Filling to feeling/in a Filling, never ever Oh it neverever Ends, which leaves me Piled up, in Bed, in Silence----------------------->
31. Silence: I gave you my Word, which I shall not Repeat-------------------------->
32. Repeat: I am Hidden in this/is House, conceiving of other ways to The Body to be the to Touch me, Touch me, Excessively Touch Me, hard—[ily]---------------- >
33. Hard: to Dream of your own Story when it’s on it’s Back------------------------->
34. Back now, a little from The Frame & that Little Man, Then—[?]--------------->
35. Then, Strap the Head back to the Chin & Eye to Sky “here howls howrel”-------------- >
36. howrel: like a Body transversing The Body, The Pronunciation of whatso—says “I am wobbling/up for the First Time”--------------- >
37. Time: you will be a fatso, in which, I shall Diverge to neither Maneuver around, nor Announce------------>
38. Announce, that the Maps of this/is remains a Shitty way to define the answer to “Dad, will I Die”—[?]---- >
39. Die, Oh you will Die in & Die again on/
40. In Personal Deductions, nothing nothing after Death will be “mine/mine”, I heard this Surely while Fumbling through a Degree of I thought/thought: I am just Bodily / embodied outside Body only Animalic Body to force beneath my Eyes, throb in the Flesh, yes------------------------>
41. Yes: The Slowly arranging Figures gather, Summoning as my bodyguffaws, displacing a Variation of Contexture, dreaming of a Discrippling, or a Sign full of, I’m Perpetually I’m Dancing on Habitus or Seeding within you so as to Overcome our Silence planted onto a Shadowspace of a Face within my own Reflection I see this: Voyeuring a rolling of Stones to Bodycombust along Life’s Scrimmage Line------------>
42. Line: along The Violent Eddy’s of the Storm & The Tower of our Indiscretion---------------->
43. Indiscretion: this attempt to form in the fog which descends upon the cityscape bringing us all to ultimate dust to state----------------------->
44. State now “In this State, it is the only Nature of being Home, that I cannot Explain.”---------------- >
