ONE
WANTS TO DENY THAT OTHERS HAVE DESIRED WHAT ONE
NOW DESIRES
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To Be Honest: all this Damn
Obsession with “Desire” really Brings-Me-Down
to Being Deceived. Therefore:
I will Construct a Litany of Things that I Cannot Say. I Have Misspelled My True Feelings and Ransacked our Secrecy. And This
Phrase: I Elect to Ignore. I Want your Face Plundering-Asunder and Under My Tennis-Elbow
Arms. Ah: But Even Saying that I Will Construct a Litany that Deceives for I Antithesizes the very Notion of Order. You Tell Me that the Only True Conclusion is a Bullet, or upon Reading
in the Sun-Times that one’s Childhood Home had been Bulldozed. But My
Girl, Don’t You Know, that This-Means
that Tonight’s Chicken-Wings are
Free. And Again: this City can Be only Described Through its very Uncertainty.
And that pocks a Mark over the Historical Record of all my Seductions of Women
from San Francisco to Chicago. in other words: I Come-to-Commit my Body Unto You, as if, to Receive, an Anxious
Forgiveness. For: Every Witness. For: Every Proposition. For:
Every Judge. For: I fucking Juridicize
the Judge. The Cross-Seduction of
Personality’s Stasis Staff-Infection. And this Recounts the Times we were Held like
Seeds, Embraced, Impaled and Implicated like Mad. In Fact,
this could be About Anything, but
there again, on my Pillow, I Find, your Littered and Sweet-Sweet Smell.
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