for Marty
This is a Problem that goes far beyond the Unorganized Nature of my Thoughts
(i.e. With a common emotional bias I proclaim, man must sleep~!
In other news: I detest the texture of this sandwich is not Autobiographical)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
it’s amazing, being in the Prime of my loveliness
falls, from my Hands crumble the memories of
the next Great Disaster, that’ll be some Tale in
the future: I predict another night & my grand
annoyance with a Lover who spat, who stirred up
my intelligible boon of the swoon, from this Window
booms or, was that just a demon I enclosed in this
book, trapped my beautiful rubbing-one-out mistaken
for Gratification these days, seems less & less attainable
in the dying light I, borned the arc to engage in my own
stuffing you here in my Dreams, where the Earth is stale &
gaping it’s ass in the jaws of thinkers, tinkers this feeling
of being absolutely side-ways & tumbling into the Bed, into
your touching which is beginning to down me, beginning to
rumbling through the deepening eddies of all those Bodies I
unharvested this need to Sleep or, what it is that binds my
bones to you in this version of a Modern Horror shoves us
deeper to the design depends on how willing I am to freeze
under the lid of the World harvested many animals in thy
underbelly & folded seriously--------->what’s up with
all these dead branches holding these watchful rotten rodents
go rigid in my linguistics are cold & tensed against analogies
& further more the Shit just burns me into a Bore as the guttural
dickhead rose from my Fantasy & tenderly I wished that I would
not happen to be so terrible, to be so (terrible, I am) the ache in
my Hands feels even stronger these days seem to have no original
form, no thought: how long will one (one) feel dragged down
to the freezing variants of “I feel overcome” with such jerks &
the Joy, I think I missed a part of my childhood is firmly rooted
in the Thought----->”I, empty” through the bottom-feeders I feel
I’m increasingly living a life, that increases my animal-like nature
& how Natural it is to fall so far into----------->this will hold us
firmly in a brutish winter, in a liaise-faire that forms the Chaos, running
across the entirety of my back covered in soot, covered in howrels as
there came a primitive eruption------>who would guess that I alone, would
put end to this World flowers only to wither in advancing age I’m doughing
up in the middle of
was the watchful Bastard & so many great concussions await me in those stirred
Faces, which slacken to a Yawl & with each accumulating step I, face this
& drop, to my knees, in the loveliest form, I am simply fucking down
simmering on the wrong side of this town, which became a City, which
became thy agitator & shrieked like a rowdyrowdy Monkey straight on
down to my production had not fallen off the Charts, into the darkness &
daylight touched me here, in my Body, still tender against the Horizon &
this finefine weather in November fixed my posture, prouding upon these
flames, which was a Frame for these dying some days I wonder “would
you enjoy suffering in terms of” tickling this out of memories & such is the
state of the Individual I’m conscious yet slack-jawed & hungry for who
cares—[?] For we say so much shittyshit to feast upon in this World will
fucking burn us all on the 8th Day
