a real prayer goes into effect, worn out
after one use-
for it is not believed to be genuine, it is not
to be believed. i like this boy this one boy hey boy here boy here
boy sit sit sit hey boy come now boy come come i said come come
all over my lap sit boy i said sit sit sit sit boy! sit, boy! sit!
he gives me compassion sit boy sit
nobody else is as good at this sit boy sit
as boy is, he who sits on my lap
when you are out- dancing at the club, and everyone is sober and clean
biting the fingers of one another off- briefly horrified at what you’re all doing,
you move on with ease, because a love song of quick tempo comes on
and you are on some MDMA knock-off, and other love bugs, as is.
when you get home, it is still a dream without justice.
you take your clothes off, and there is nothing there
except the shallow fear one comes across only in their sleep
which cannot be determined as such, nor can it be
determined as waking.
the fat of a horse all over my mouth sits while wobbling. i am
mostly in bed, lacking in my own determination. i overlook my privileges-
voting is a privilege, you know.
crickets from bags one opens up for little frogs
have been opened on my torso, to take it apart,
have been opened on my torso, to take it apart,
like the picking at a scab, as my torso
is only an enormous toad that sits and says
(no, not “ribbit!”)
“it is lunchtime.”
“you can’t lay down there dead all day. you must arise, for it is
lunchtime in the hospital. is that not where you were put? god bless you,
oh, you in our care.
“were you not haughty and unwilling to compromise, nor
would you be a part of the family? were you not acting out, like how
you are now?
“this winding up here is always consequentially.
“little eggs in your tummy-wummy, from where have they been
from where my right leg rotted and
“do you know the sex yet?
“vaginas and penises.
i must say this is most unlike myself- for i do not see, only
do i imagine i see. heydingagain
the lunchtime ding
“you can’t just lay around all day
you have to get up
we’re motivating you
we’re building your strength up for you.”
“i must say i do not eat as my mother believes such is the case
and if i can achieve such then i am relieved. i imagine i do such a thing
and notice i am being eaten by my own body
producing insects- innumerable mothers of my
body are to feed themselves and their little ones.
down a cracked alleyway this began when i went hunting
for drugs- how i wanted a rock, all i wanted
was a rock or even a
“we have for you a meal ding ding
“we have for you a bit of lorazepam, diphenhydramine, and haloperidol all
cooked up and ready for you if you will not
join the others and eat shit for lunch.
“we are giving you one last chance to do as we say.
“i feel shamed for my fever, for my becoming a disease. is this how you treat
a woman after she has a baby and becomes that baby? do you even understand
how many babies and their mothers i carry? do you even understand- possibly, do you
that this is the day borne of meat and today
“we will hold you down, and that’ll be really violating (but we’ll never know from
our end), we’ll insert this needle from an improper angle while laughing at how you’re
white meaning not of color, but this will only be
at the end of the day
a bit of a pinch. you will be shy about our seeing your ass
which we are to smack. ready? smack.
you will feel defeated, invalidated, and abused.
are you licking your fingers to stop the anthills from growing
to hide the queens, warring
we are licking our fingers for we can report
that we have done our jobs somehow
which we are paid for with money. oh my god yes money day!
(at the end of the day, a bit of a pinch at most.
these puddles all around me? they became
after the last rain storm maelstrom shit storm. they are
excellent grounds for mosquitoes to breed. do not think
that i do not see these puddles! do not think i will not suffer
and you will not laugh
at my suffering!
the primordial mind faces poverty after being bitten by mosquitoes
and facing allergic reactions
and falls to sleep to where it left off last.
(drift off to ding smack ding ding drift to the sleep. ding smack
incest happens. (the girl said again.) incest will happen sometimes.
incest never happened though i do not know. (the girl laughed nervously.)
though, there is nothing wrong with that.
incest happens sometimes. we need to pass the law that says
there is nothing wrong with that.
i am not impatient to find out whether incest happens
and whether or not
either are okay to happen.
(a lascivious mouth on a peanut-dick cries because it is re-thinking
its plans to revenge against the father of the peanut-dick.) i am a little girl,
of course i know magic. my pee is golden, something
to live forever
the warmth will grant you the bravery to
by swallowing the rest of humanity. not living is that which constitutes an impoverished act.
as i imagine
there’s no escape. i neglect to see- seeing in a
direction unwanted, anyway.
i pretend i know how to see.
oh! my dear therapy, you know exactly how to leave me
wandering. my troubles are blue, indeed!
men come in
better hide again because ding again, smack again
ding ding on the shithole trolley smack
ding hide again
my alligator eyes are pushed downward, underwater
sucked by mosquitoes and their diseases. i find myself lost in the woods searching for the world of
the medicine man. (i’m looking at your demons
i’m licking at your semen
i will become a demon
to lap at your semen- there’s something about myself
that i have to change.) this part of the day is my favorite- when the sun is being pushed
down on and all that matters is i find a soothing place
to see myself in. “save my light shedding as i pray,” aloud i announce
in case the medicine man or his people hear me, in case
they’ve been following me this whole time.
(a real prayer for the force behind it pushes my head underwater
for the sake of the medicine man.
there’s a chance tomorrow will be better in fact i choose to believe tomorrow will be better though only the moment exists i am the moment and i fear myself unknowing how to change my relation to fear to find the guidance i starve for these
boo-boos to feel better. boo-boos
get better with medicinals and bandages- and, of course,
this is the part of the day when i acknowledge my blind mind
taking up all of my life.
it doesn’t matter.
it would be too much if it mattered.
dead boy die in dead
bathroom stall. dead boy swirlie-dive.
dead boy die.
i got dead boy’s head. it died.
dead boy, what is it that makes
what is it that makes life “worth”
the eating of one’s own decapitated head is a
horse, of course. i am hurt not
by my beheading
though it solve no injustice which i aimed to silence.
eating always goes back to the flesh
which is being eaten right now.
desecration is a star appearing to itself, violence
emerges until our changes are given light
which we fear- though, fear
teaches to either act with or react against violence.
until then i starve.
dead boy is a dead boy died. dead boy dead boy- refusal
to fly. dead boy make life “worth” life. (only dead boy
can afford it, he been around since the beginning of
dead boy who? dead boy die, is who. dead boy
dead boy dead object of formal redemption.
into your bowels i examined
my distinct focus was brave
as your face fell apart from the
wounds caused by the locusts
and we all went inside because
we all wanted to see how dark
and stinky it was in there.
dead boy come back and molest me again. (i was never molested
i just get a kick out of it
i’m just exaggerating
to have something to talk about at parties)
then what’s this? (don’t show me.)
then what’s this? (well, it is only my vagina.)
i said, what’s this?
said i said i said DING i said DING i said come on get up
it’s time to play ding! ding! ding! ding!
a great period of depression, i think, has weighed down upon
my womb, my heart, my mind; i have become a stone
waking up, facing breathing. it is as superficial as all
the fluff one believes ought [to] be exiled, extinguished.
and agent of stimulation? everyone has seen the worst at least
once (a perceived discontinuity)- violence is everywhere
and we’ve grown indifferent. do you do the breeding of brutalizing
experience? agent, (DISCONTINUITY IS PERCEPTION OF SPACE BETWEEN
INTERRELATINGS) one can express uncertainty among others who do not
express believings of utopian fascinations.
none of us are entertained, solely nervous, and abiding.
“and we see that you have not yet swallowed your food, your tongue
shoot your ass up with the same needle from last time.
for we are not yet high on power, not
as high as we’d like. not like how it was last time so
we’re going to try to aim higher.
the used needle up your ass tastes better than the shit
which you speak and that which is suppressed in the speaking
come on baby. this party is one during which
everyone has swallowed their tongues. they’ve nothing left in their
mouths but rotting teeth.
if you don’t take it up the ass, you will see their eyes
screaming ‘help me’ for the rest
of your shitty life.
have you not ever violated your own code of principality?
(SPIT IT OUT
SPIT IT OUT
IT OUT SPIT IT OUT SPIT OUT IT OUTSPIT IT SPIT OUTSITPITDITSPIT
“you cannot glorify your principals, you say.” (I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO MY TONGUE TO MY SPIT TO MY TEETH TO MY STINKY FEET KISS MY STINKY FEET 8948248427484700010101001010101010010101001010100100100101010101011010100101001010
THESE THINGS ARE MINE. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. all else
for all i care
under my great height.
it is from now on that i enter the ruins i floated into throughout a series of dreams now released to history. from now on, i talk only to myself, out of my throat. this is how one becomes a cause within equality, as frequently reminded, as all else.)
“you are not ready. you must change. reform, cadaver. reform.
i have a secret. get inside. i’d like to embrace all of your dreams
as children of mine. i must force, you understand. force myself upon your dreams,
i must, you understand. give to me. give.
give to me. sleep with me. open to me. never learn to love. drain
your life. force. give. this is the potentiating
of the hot sex on a hot bed that we burn on and go on to continue
life as burn victims fucking pushing marriage under the eyes of
on one another
but never getting quite so far.
there’s so much one can do.
you are tired
and you are free. stop listening to everyone ever.