Back to the Babe dark

I wanna, but then I, too

Have judged the people / for letting go.

We the perpetrators of the United States in order

To know / to be afraid / have stuck our hand / on

The electric burner. The gameplay / of Memory,

Of Go Fish, the game 

Of the pairing / of questions 

With answers.

And you’re off.

Grey clouds upon light grey clouds, darkness top- 

Heavy, hello to you on the dryish inside of 

A crust of rain. In the pebbles I find last night,

The word, “smack,” word I chose / in the moment, well,

It’s my word now. WELL IT’S MY WORD NOW!

Last night / she let me / be the one

To get her ready. Do I stumble? Very well,

I stumble. Do you ever criss-cross some electrical interference

And your bluetooth sizzles, like the nut

Of a flame? I’m sorry: there’s a train inside 

My head that goes

All the way cross-country.

I want to talk about what happens when

The track passes over 

The groundlessness of myth,

But the train also goes into / poisoned towns,

Abandoned by the government, gaslit

For the interests of Leviathan training

Around minimizing liability

And we’re acting as if robots

Could somehow be crueler. 

In hindsight which means looking rearward,

Using cake for eyes, I see the serpent is the “how to,”

& How do you wrestle with a snake, either

It becomes a dance or you lose

The “what” is no longer the issue

Though you still go to the edge 

Of that, hopefully not too often, & cling

To the fire escape & throw stuff into the now-what

Is platinum, is shiny, is fallish, as in trippy,

With a “d,” / Every inhale is preparation

For a perceptual / shift–

I could be good, but then

I’d be recycling old shit

& This is like a tablecloth, a silk steak,

Beef with a “k" and a "ch,” or scarf being pulled up 

By its center, a birdie, a parachute

Breathe in / & drop down. 'O' the iron bars

Of my hope, of the incurable nature

Of sadness / in a secular / world

I attempt to turn every feeling

Into a hunger, so that it

Can be satisfied, it's the best predictor,

If the page be a hero's journey, If I read the rules 

And retained just the outlines, contours 

Means I know the shape of it but not 

What’s inside tell me act 

like it’s your birthday and I’ll take it 

Literally I want to make a video of that, just so 

I can have it as a thing to show, and then, in the showing,

You’d get the feeling, such about the mirrors goddamn It, 

such as the mirror neurons, goddamn It, such 

as our empathy for video, and before video, heroes 

In cave paintings, and before heroes, words, words were 

The first paintings and so if you had that feeling 

You would get the metaphor, the muscle

Is the best metaphor we have for a lot of things, we

Of the atrophy,

Of the toughening,

Of the stimulus-response–

Of course a person with a cyclical 

Affective disorder would say the most profound thing 

We can do spiritually

Is to have a change of heart. Fear not!

I tell you, as I tell myself, for as long 

Trust the monotone to reveal.

What’s interesting. If spice, to them, 

Is petroleum, to me. Imagine a medical

System that can categorize & name 

Everything, but fails

To utter

Whatever. In the ultraroom of hyper-

Silliness as in nonsense with a “c,” 

T. We have no reason, save

Socialization, NOT to reach I get that

What you do is all about Omniscience. And the word “who.”

Funny thing is there’s little more to know, 

I mean. What if God is giving us everything they’ve–

No, the only substance lost,

Was time. Each time

You sit down, it is to rip the veil

And declare war. He’s still on the 21st-

Century–Tumblr

Aesthetic. If this one doesn’t work

You can always.To become 

such a nightmare that the object will always 

Come second. To preemptively.

Take a job the way others 

Nature dapples fur with bright spots

While colors spin horizontally

A Tesseracting perfect circle (boring) 

Or rain-down when the rain’s

Too thick and may become hail.

Some circles emerge

From underneath, to live

Is to never stop running

For those drilled by freedom.

Is there  no other way, who brought you to the edge

And asked you important questions

With their fingers in your mouth

I guess I meant I went aqueous

& slipped out of there.

In the conversation never uttering

The Implied phenomenon: out of sight,

Out of mind.

You may be edged/there may be clattering

Of bones, the height of a peak may be slightly, slowly, patiently high-pitched

By the downward pull

Of gravity, layering accumulation

Of hardening brush

over original meeting, clash of continents

In a molten sea.

Mushrooms informed me that there are no places in the world, only places in the brain

Gray from outside, sure–

It doesn’t rain like that here

There’s no fire escape looking like a deconstructed box,

Not unlike a city, not unlike

Anonymity, hard

To be free. cold

To be true colored,

A lean-to survival shelter

You are steel on the bias, but

But you don’t know how fragile

You still really are

To shit talk? To make light around the fire pit?

In the darkness? In the long night ? To put on

A - / and tell it like it is?

Those who know / what they are doing

Are a broken record, that have the bouquet, haven’t muscled like you,

Deltoid by deltoid

But always the sinews they do start

To appear. He said it exactly once,

And you hold onto it; the flatness of the painting

On water implies the depths.