Sunday, December 18, 2016

a dream of eating shit.

sticky film, a gas problem- even
a gas leak

fungus excretion

protesting any more
small hints at rejection, which mean

nothing and
are too small for interpretation, until the day
you wake up, and
molecular studies are your only friends.

no known cause for the slow thought.

swallowing semen- plainly
following narrative, is all- nothing so innocuous
as following assigned protocol
of asceticism
among asceticisms, many who literally
dig their bones
into the top of one's head- "i am

your spiritual teacher," they remind you; 
"i am god choosing you.
"i am
preparing you for your fate

of exposing as many discrepancies
of the heavens
as you can sleep on.
"yes, it's totally going to be lonely.
"

etc., it's time

to be as asleep as possible; make substance
of shadow
to become repulsed
by shadow. vision quest

for those infected by parasites, us
breeding grounds. major depressive
disorder. recurrent. ongoing.

that upward cast light
from far below
making the sky feel bad- source
of the storms-

young suns dying young
after winter passes, when it's no longer normal

to be the poster child of defeat
and all the masks that once were
have been given away

so there's no soul left, either. just so you know.

we are the same wild boar
until suddenly, we are not- spring

bursts from the ground. i watch you
make way to the
horizon

fooling around with others and shit.

i remain where i am, repeating, "life or death, isn't this?
life or death
life or death.
"

the pinnacle of poignant
as reviving imagination
past romanticism is out of the question.

i've lost patience waiting for it to be okay
to try
a seance for the living. i'm picking
my skin off again, looking

to becoming a parasite myself.