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.