something something
do you want me to tell you what happens
breeding as an industry
nothing i touch feels like it's kicking even this plain lucid sky dull fête champêtre picnic in a field of mundane flowers bouquet of dandelion greens stale rye bread lunch feather swallower birds singing nonsense where are our monuments? every house looks like a cold bone what a shame how light is bullied word gurgler vomit swallower smell of burning curtains lucid velvet natal-dark theatre bouquet of eyes birds in rafters singing nonsense standing ovation light as witness taste as witness scent as witness sound as witness warmth as witness what a shame we are all kicking inside a mother
pleasure craft
HELLO I AM A
GRUDGE NURSER
YOU ARE ON MY BOAT
AND ARE TROUBLED
BY WAVES
MY BOAT HAS
WOOD FROM LEBANON
ALCANTARA SEATS
AND A VINTAGE
GAUGE CLUSTER
YOU WHIFF SALT AND
DROPPINGS AND FUMES
I AM TAKING YOU TO
INTERNATIONAL WATERS
TO SLIT YOUR THROAT
SEVERAL TIMES AND DUMP
YOU INTO THE OCEAN!
STOP CRYING ON MY
PLEASURE CRAFT!
ASKING WHY MAKES
ME ANGRIER OKAY?
A BODY IS GOOD AT
MAKING WET THINGS
WETTER OKAY?
THE WIND CHEWS YOUR
UN-DUCT-TAPED PARTS
AS WE ARRIVE DROP
MY ANCHOR
FISH-GUT KNIFE OKAY?
SORRY IT’S MY FIRST TIME
AND I'M VERY COLD
BLOOD AND TEARS AND
SPRAY AND NO
WET DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN THEM
AS YOU SINK YOU WONDER
WHY YOU AGREED TO
CO-SIGN ON INSURANCE
the layman
something medicinal about her breath. her sigh coaxes me into an overdose. backwards sweet-talk. we like the same things. quixotic syllogism: - for me, love is earned. - i want love. - therefore i must earn it. to gain, to cause, to hold her hand with skin like greased braille. chances flicked away. not even God has the power to un-say. what is it, this hand, that blind walk you took in the pool, towards me, your eyes half-open, hoping to collide? who is it i hear speaking? was it my shivering refusal, how i stepped out of your way? my bad driving? i thought you liked scared animals? forget me then — now she waits in bed for him, as patient as lidless eyes in a photograph. what to do, what to do? i’m nothing if not a chore. the layman can’t understand, to be deaf-blind and to hold her hand.
we have the whole night
lets play a game how drunk can we get? we have the whole night discreet overcast stars are timid and blink and shudder if you stare something trite, like to aim for them like bound targets, like to call them cosmic myodesopsia something someone drunk would say, like you’re seeing the echoes of stars that’ve already gone out they’re pretty old, you know no coincidence heaven is filled with the dead no coincidence everything happens down here first we all say what’s already been said, even up there they can’t help repeating themselves it’s already all gone you know what this is stupid lets play a game hit me until i die until all i feel are punches and all i see are flashes of light
i died do you want me to tell you what happens first nothing for about infinity years then after a stretch and a yawn nine figures clad in light ask if you want to see the moon up close
so so good, all caps one is silly good.
fuck dude