from The Figure (751-800)

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the figure

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from The Figure (751-800)

Fig. 751 The Obligation to *this World: to Obliterate what is written, to Obliterate what is arrested in Motion, to O Obliterate all that is signifying nothing: your Body, happy in its own Beautiful Debility

Fig. 752 To Ache, isn’t an earth-shattering Event, although this cutting-down the Body (in a) fields-toward a Stroke, (si)thins-through the Magnification of your Voice, or else, declaring an End to the Story or rather, these Days, the only Event worth Naming, is the one contrasting starkly with my Desire for that which would be our non-event, for that which would be both us, in a Room, defacing & condemning all those fuckers who sought to destroy *this World

Fig. 753 “I’ll call You, I promise, in a Dream, to tell you the silliest Thing: I dreamt I had once loved You”

Fig. 754 The Beauty of our Intimacy, is that nothing nothing happens: suctioned in the Rimjob of perpetual change, of a ceaseless updating of devouring that last Sentiment, that last drawing-us-towards: the incessant succession of our Failure, which produces this general lulling us to Sleep, in each other’s arms, whereupon we awake, in the Bosom of the Zero Degree of our History: Baby, baby-baby Girl, we’s never-ever gun’sa happened

Fig. 755 C’mere, let me tell you Thy Secret: The Craziest Sleaze conceived Me

Fig. 756 Is it best to stop the Blowjob & thus live in a State of perpetual Transfusion—[?]

Fig. 757 I am ultimately, no longer Anything, but the Defiance of *this Body

Fig. 758 All I want, are your Hands all over my fucking Face; I am, of course, speaking purely of a Theoretical Object I’ll enact

Fig. 759 Your Life, was so uneven, so unbalanced from (going) Inside, I could not even stand up against a Wall, against myself, vertical to the Ground, or horizontally centering on the Gravity of this Scene: of the Throat, of *this, of the Body I thwart to Grasp

Fig. 760 The Face which precedes even its own Appearance

Fig. 761 Thy Description, in your Ear [s]—here’s Thy moving MOUF

Fig. 762 When we fucked, it became an empty, useless endeavor once it assumed a Sentimental (bodily) form

Fig. 763 Love means enhancing the other’s Face in a Quality of Light

Fig. 764 “Excess Today, Excess Tomorrow, Excess since the Day you were Born all up-this Ass”

Fig. 765 Of all Thy Lovers: The Most Inconceivable. Of all that brought me Happiness: the most untimely; Of all Thy Enemies: each & every One of You; Of all that I have Obsessed over: it is Thee, it is only Thee

Fig. 766 The Rhythm risen-from of your Breath // cracking // along my Cheeks // at Night

Fig. 767 To consider each Movement as the possibility of its unavoidable Accident

Fig. 768 The most Perfect Manifestation of your Body & my working it-over, would be the Vanishing of your Body into an actual devouring of each course of *this World, rumbling rhythmically in my Belly, like a greased Engine along the Stretch of Road where no Other would dare to be Seen

Fig. 769 “I can’t tell you how fucking Tired I truly am”

Fig. 770 To be Honest: after all this digging, I didn’t want to find your Face or the disfigured Memory that I had hoped for

Fig. 771 You said: “As long as *this recatum remains”

Fig. 772 To Say, I came of Corruption would be dishonest to say: “I am only of Corruption” & all those unsavory personal Histories

Fig. 773 & most often, this walking took us further-into the Bowels of the City were surely a Sham

Fig. 774 & then, falling-into my arms You said “Arms, no more of these Memories”

Fig. 775 To not Move: the Purest of Perversions

Fig. 776 All I have ever wanted, was to be sure I was dreaming

Fig. 777 Keep your Pecker up, Pokarney—[!]

Fig. 778 The Space underfoot & the Face softening in the Mirror after yesterday’s Rest: The City, slowly scudding-away from your Mind & far above, the shillness of her Body: a Subject of Phantom wills, the Meat tenderizing, simmering there, in your Mouth prodigiously chewing the useless bustle, as though, throwing your Desire in all Directions at once & then: everything Stops, everything begins to Ruin in that first whiff of Spring, where everything begins to Consume you in yr driving-away from Excess

Fig. 779 I’ve become Obsessed with Whoever’s Dreams I do not Haunt

Fig. 780 The Body in which, when you pressed your Skin down-through you would see The Face, emerge beyond all Corruption of borders, beyond all Glorification of Effacement, in a Grim Fashion, as if, from a Picture burning-blue around the Edges & turning, slowing, right behind You, would be your Hell

Fig. 781 Sadly, you are the Original of my Jokes & the Procession of the Rest, have become, but replications of *this Joke

Fig. 782 The presence of an El Train, lies above or behind all of this.

Fig. 783 & in your Arms—[?] All this fucking Fecundity

Fig. 784 When I look at You, it as if, you become my own Phantom Limb, where You remain, where you sit, only a painful Presence of that which I know is to be inside me

Fig. 785 I absolutely fucking tickle myself

Fig. 786 Feeling the Dryness of your Skin, the Features of my Face change

Fig. 787 & so in others, Baby “I had a Big Bad Dream”

Fig. 788 The Extermination of the Surface signed “EXIT DEAR”

Fig. 789 Your Body under further Interrogation, surrenders to a more tender Annihilation, or rather, a vicious Celebration arising in *this tete—e—tete

Fig. 790 The Slums of Me then The Slums of Thee

Fig. 791 The Phrase “& so this Begins” turns my Mind to Childhood, to laying in bed with my Father, parting my Hair, legs wrapped over & through mine eyes “& so this Ends too”

Fig. 792 I came to STOP on the Bit of yr Chomp

Fig. 793 Every Failure provides its own beautiful way of being backed into a Corner

Fig. 794 The Suns stands between The Trump & The Hancock, themselves two magnificent Beacons of Man, being overshadowed by that natural Little Berry of Death

Fig. 795 Your Body isn’t soothing no what Form I might take

Fig. 796 Crashing, Vertically, Sadly, Outstretched

Fig. 797 “ I don’t want You gone so small you’re almost Gone”

Fig. 798 The Internal Force of the *boom, inseparable from the Sensation of the Head, suddenly flattening or the melody of your Form, violently severed

Fig. 799 To seek out, to Seduce, to Capture, a Body: it’s Hand

Fig. 800 For *this Man is // va-wee va-wee// Sick