THIS FACE IS EITHER A PARADISE OR THE VERY BOTTOMING OUT OF HELL

 

Obviously, It's a Given Our Romance Would Be Wanton, If Only You Could See Me In That Blue Dress

OVERHEARD WHILE IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM (MOUNT SINAI HOSPITAL, NYC, 2012)

Stop being a disaster!

What happened was:  I was at the zoo with my father. And then my father was gone. And now I’m here and I don’t know how to get out of here.

Daddy…daddy…are we in the clear?

Daddy, I see you are you here!

Oh no. Oh no.

My daddy was here and he wasn’t and he isn’t here and don’t touch me, don’t make this worse! The zoo was far from home and we were looking at monkeys. Monkeys like you! I had a banana. I had a banana and the monkey wanted the banana and daddy said no so I ate the banana.

I went potty and daddy was gone and I was here. Where is here? Don’t touch me! Where is here?

Daddy, touch me. Make me feel like a girl. Give me a banana. Give me a treat. Oh no, oh no. Who are you? Where’s my daddy? What have you done with my daddy?

Where is the zoo from here?

Fear? Oh no, oh no. Fear?

Oh dear.

And-Wouldn't-You-Know: I Was Just Beginning to Feel Aroused

abarberisthemostsavoryangeltothepsyche

The Prefix of this City rots on the (pre-) anal that I Wed: Before you Read this, Before your Absence only Becomes a Backdrop, I Want you to Kiss Me. I am Writing some sort of coo, as this is Stumbling towards the Finality of a Stroke: a Sound that is Retinaled from the Ear into Solitude.  A Barber, as Izsus said, is the most Savory Angel to the Psyche.  I Have Hung my Wet Clothes up, and Succumbed to the Domestic link to Glory. This is the pits, is the Least of the Disappointments that I Heard. “But you See-Them Tits on Page 49, Ah, Flip to the Other Side…” A Disaster Within or Withsome Accrues in a City as the Romancing Shock of the Conclusive end to the Body, where this Rapture surely Congregates with the Speed of One Man Skedaddling out the fucking Door, out the fucking White Pages.  With a Mouthful of Cereal, I Reiterate that I am in the Midst of some Serious Writing. I Have Heard and Returned to this Horror a Thousand Erect Times. You can Ob— || as I Literates a Time for a Lisp that Careens over the Commandeering Clap of a Command.  And Peeling-Back this little Day-Dream for a Seasoned Heart and the other Lilt Complaints that Populate this mouf.  in other words: At Least, I Factored-Off into a State of Chicago Broken-Off from the Rest of this Rubed World.  The Fact that I have Enemies, does Not Mean that I have Allies.  It is Rather Funny, how in Youth, we Confide in the City, to Begin to Wonder Why.  She tells me: this Present has a Sub-Present that Presides Over Desire.  And-Wouldn’t-You-Know: I was Just Beginning to Feel Aroused.  And I Keep Telling Myself, that I am Alive, only through this Consistent Motion, this Consistent Wild-Eyed-Desire to Hit the Allusive Rock.  I Guarantee this Sentence shall Arrive just as, as is.  I Accumulate your Absences into this Room, so that in Time, they Shall-Grow so Large, that it Builds a Bridge that Runs Right-Through you, but Never-Into you.  And so it Goes, And as it Goes it Sows. And I tell Her every Night: I have just one more Errand to Run, and then I Swear, that I Will Lie next to you, for the Remainder of this Night. Calm and Perhaps.

A Mouth Full from the Curmudgeon’s Tossed-Salad

One Futility is This: One Cannot Avoid Being Noticed nor Avoid that Desire to be Noticed.---àSo I Swallowed the Revolver. ---àSuddenly. ---àAnd Slipping Myself up to my Nose, into a Deep and Shivering Bucket of Scrutiny---ài.e. “Girl,” I Say: i.e. “Nipple” I Say: i.e. “Snow || ow” I Say: i.e. “Apple” I Say;---àOh Dear, how Bewildered we are, to be Named this Name and then Proceeding in this Way. ---à As A Pornographic Joke of its own Making. ---à“I want to Cut-Through the Traffic, Wild, Cackling and raw, on my own Sociopathic Terms.” ---àOne Day, I Will Write a Symphony for your Clear Complexion.---à“The Deconstruction and Fall of Armsy the Pigeon”.---àAnd After all: I was Always the Handsomest of Pearls.---àClimbing-Up the Catalogue of my Mother’s Nerves. ---àThe Radical thump of Studying My Face Becoming a Father. ---àI Reach-Into my Pissing-Stream. ---àBof or bruise. ---àMy Heart Wads a Root in Hooliganism and Depantsing.---àAnd Then Allegory: Speaking-up while my Mouth is Full from the Curmudgeon’s Tossed-Salad. ---àThe Sun-Shafted Drill and the History of the Self-Satisfied Chorus.---àErasing the Mess (Subject) that We got Ourself in, would be a Great Idea. ---àThere will be so many Scenes to Come in which I Come. ---àThe Deeply Startled roar of the Pompous Pumped-Up Ass. ---àSadly, we are Entering the Age of “Hush…”---àI Could Turn-Off the Coming Fireworks, but instead, I will just Stand in the Unseasonably Cool June Air and Careen until it Feel like I am Floating in the Hairs of my own Cluttered Tramp-Stamp.  

CHOOSING THE STOCK

SHIMMIED IN MY SLUR

SHIMMIED IN MY SLUR

Tell Scruff and

(es) ever-the-more

Taut your “I’m

Slipping Knees to a Slit” ---------------àFace Scruttle-Up Gone Shimmies,

Folding the Skirt” and (in)

to (in) and growing the Body: just

over your by (in) “I’m to Thighs, and Mouth: Beneath

your this.”

This.

This: Strips, Folds

into yaws---------------àdown (in)to

“Groin,

Skirt…” Tipping, the

talled Beneath I

Stalled

Scruttle-Up and Scruff (in) this.

This: ------------------------------àFace

(es) a Body: Strips, and Shimmies,

Fold (in) by Fold

into a Mouth: yaws---------------àdown

to the Groin, the Thighs, “I’m Beneath

your Skirt” growing ever-the-more

taut I talled and Tipping, just

over your Knees to tell “I’m

Slipping Beneath your

Skirt…” Slit (in) and Gone

this.

This: Beneath

(es)—s

your Mouth: tells (in)

to a Tipping, Beneath

to you Says: “I’m

Slipping (in) Scruttle-Up” your

Folds

into Thighs, I

and I, Body:

Slit

Skirt…” growing in Gone

Strips,

(es) “I’m Talled and (in) Groin…” ever-the-more

Taut and Scruff

the Skirt

just

over by yaws ---------------àdown

Shimmies,

Fold Knees---------------àFace

and (in)