mouf ii
(dreams are of the body)
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there is better elsewhere, baby. This, was certain. Sweating, inside, of what I am uncertain, for why or for what, I am uncertain. Thus, leave me here, sweating, taking on the touch of ice, of such, brief & the beginning of which I suppressed. This, was certain. But stress--------------->no sooner to end & to till the “till” for instance will still still me no good. This, was certain. My Body, rot, is round in any case, this is the case derived from my fingertips that trace. To Face “A”, forming an ass out of all these days increasingly seem the more alone, so back, resuming to assuming this temperature in the Body boils to a tumbling of bodies to touch, ultimately to rear, to say “I’m rare” & thus, stop, to dark, to a great attending to an ass, or was it that white light above thy eyes which grew the more, that my body grew the more, to ultimately rest here more, sweating in it’s rot more. One could remark here, that there is no move to remove the fact that there is no going back. This, was certain. No, humanely there is not an instant together, in which, to fall, in this space, is never an option to not fall, in this space slowly falls. All this, was never solid in my Head, or the dark of this Space, elsewhere, there is a better show, I am quite sure of this, as tumbling in a silence, in a storm, begins it’s commence to begin whence the reasons I’m tensed entrenched in this sense. This, was certain. Opening of the eyes, inspection of the Feet, raw & icy, all the more before this remark “there are no seconds, which pass, between the Body’s tumult & when the Body’s tumult” rawlf. Less & less, I am certain of fewer things, beyond the reach & my I, convulse the length of this Space, which is a well, which is something other, which is “well, I suppose it isn’t a matter in the end” which is similarly strange to just Go “pah” to mark, increasingly more of these are uncertain in their Silence. This, was certain. There are twenty inches towards “P” that are essential to cross, yet essentially, no matter the years, they are 20 inches, in which, of which, I’ll never have crossed. Grounding & grounding in this shitstorm together, as in together, separately, we are alone & the little absence in our Bones. Closing the eyes, when the consumptions upon the Body, become so great, this cuts out all the light we’ve striven so little we reached. This, was certain. Sweating & continuing to purge the ill, I will continue to sweat, in here, in intervals, without pause, without such a breath or reprieve between the World’s tiny little vanishes vanish. So “A” is the same & all the same in ending to end the end & how funny, being held down from the back, dragged by the entirety of the Body vibrates---->temperature rising, there is movement, gray, shuffling feet, a mouth appears & voice ascends, descended as I saw myself in rot Body against this was how I was descending, yet still my Body was still. Neither questioning this nor pilfering a Question would hold a View, of which this would be The Great Against the view from thine eyes. This, was certain. Opening the eyes, the light becomes “whatever” through this Mouth that begins to murmur something about whiteness into Heat, into grounding the Body further into the ground, mostly, to go to the burybaby in order to temporarily shine, this attendance down on the Attendant of life now vanishes. This, was certain. At the same time, the temperature goes down, to the lowest point, which reaches right through to you go through this instance of being blinded by the Light or, being blinded by the thought “this was so strange”. Initially, this was the thought between the two eyes, sheathed in a calm, surrounding the whole, or the root, which was dragging me further down, further from my Imagination & closer to this leaden sense of enclosure, to this sense of what I gazed upon, in darkness, was surely gazing back. This, was certain. So, “A” with his feet tied & “A” now bent over, attempting to roll the Body from side-to-side, sweating, sweating being in this entrapture of a Sign, sweating as the Heat again was finally setting itself to Rise. This movement, this rolling oneself in a movement of rolling, continues on unbroken on, until, in the Space of this space, total exhaustion is reached & how the smell of the Flesh came as the same instant that my Hunger rose. So this movement is still moving, towards, the Body towards, a Space that would attain the freezing-point away from this encroaching Heat, rumbling & becomes a Storm, becomes a reversal of this movement becomes blinding, becomes the frequency of which I was falling, accelerated to a rising against the pauses of life’s varying length, against the varying feverish days & against the moment when this movement, would move itself towards a movement of reversing the reversal of this reversing movement. This, was certain. That the Storm would reverse, is to say, there would be a further sensation of emptiness, of Heat, of blindness, of ice or, wait the Sun goes down & our eyes grow dark together, lying on this floor, was a vault, was a Body that was holding us being held by another Body & all the gray in this Space, the Sun goes out, the temperature drops wait, for the Heat to come back when it comes back wait for the ice to come back, so to move closer to that Body, in the corner, or what you assume, is a corner, in the dark & to huddle with that Body, in the corner, or what you assume, is a corner, in the dark & more or less this level reached would increase the sensation of the fall, when the falling began to fall, all around you, falling to fall to the experience of showing yourself falling, between the beginning of the fall & the end, which would be you, your Body, rising, only to bend down from the lack of Space in this enclosure was a fraction of what it meant to die, you remarked, was like a pause between the beginning of the fall & the end, in which you’d begin to rise. This, was certain. Your Body, or my Body still stilling itself before it’s still to Vault. wait. So, wide is this Heat, variegating our Bodies. wait. Verdure & again the angles in this Space, in which to maneuver, are at a minimum. This, was certain. From the surface of each touch, there appears, a blindness in thy eye & thus, the same white pause in the page. Between this living of a life, you are searching in the Space, for a duration, a wall, an absolute Image to subdue the strange. There will be none. This, was certain. Still, as I am shifting still my limbs still, it occurs that I am prey, Face against the cold knees, where between there is an instant of tenderness, beginning in your eyes & down to the Mouth, in reverse. From the movement of this movement, there grows a vault, in the darkness, on the other end, a Head, a Face, facing less & less of what is assured, in the lips yes. The Sweating throughout, is the movement that gives definition to “A” worse off now, that thy Body has split to two, vanishes, which means thy eyes to black & whence to Calm the fall or “how I hold you now” in this corner or, what I assume, is a corner where I am holding your Body, which I assume, is a Body, that I am holding, as only, to bar us against the Storm forming it’s extremities in the thought. there is better elsewhere, baby. & This, was certain.
