ExpX3x2x1X

 

POEM-19

I Shoulda Seen It Comin’ from a Mile On Out.

Flare of void hit particularly hard. As of yet no RNA takedown tho idle flames claim falling bodies that go soft on the floor, broken wristed. What are we worried about and who is making this choice?

Leg

I love those movies & books that let you believe there is no strong divide between life & death, that lifts the veil--"Kafka on the Shore," "Death Becomes Her," stuff like that.

It's along those lines that I encourage you to live for me while I can't go out, or even get up. If you do it I don't have to. I miss nothing. I'll sit here stewing over words or some form of dread while you GeT tHiNgS dOnE! Kiss a gentle man, climb a rock, get used to driving these roads.

Have fun and tell me the story when you get home. Or, just sit next to me, hold my hand & look at my eyes. I can see you nearly precisely, what you would say—

We should try experiments in co-dreaming again. We should write the same novel at the same time, alternate them page for page, and see what happens.

But, your pretty fkn face’ll face the ugly page that faces yours. Share this rotten side. Us, snotty & vindictive. We really get back at the ____, when we try. Closed suspicion, I hush you to be polite.

Can I ask you a question? I mean it. Can I? Because I think I'll know just what you'll say while I lay here in my baby sled, thinking. New year cologne lingers. I can smell my own ass. 

—

I want you to come home and find that I've showered on my own. I want you to come home with leftovers from lunch. Smelling like the beach with a dumb story about how Santa Cruz might be just a little bit too sinister for you, how you're getting used to driving. I'll tell you about how I feel like I may be settling down in my mind for the first time in a while.

What do you think of living in the woods? You don't have to live in the woods.

when it happens we will be unable to move//we've been unready this whole time (17)

ground to the bottom with terrorists attacks & guess we will boil soon

here in the unsoapable corner of a coffee cup we huddle from coverup

wipe soot sludge Los Angeles eyes

syrupy grit you can't see up close a grey day but not really

anyway we're waiting for something like catastrophic

we all know it's going to happen 

that it wasn't just what happened yesterday

 it doesn’t smell, but you can still kind of feel it on you after you touch it

,,deep rest”

but a natural phenomenon of self-inflicted human dishonesty & thoughtlessness led to global catastrophe. It’s perfectly reasonable, and psychiatrists//therapists need to reflect that. ‘No, I don’t want Wellbutrin’ but the pharmacist’s warning about its speedy effects were enticing.

Murder literally everywhere around the globe. 

And a goddamn snarl at the butt. Swear to god.

on hills cluster 
filling secretarial
ecstatic coverup 
soon a surgery

yo sin cojone

 the policeman knelt on the person's spine and shot him in the back of the head