during slow time we strip billboards looking for clues the Welcome Ladies try selling trips not one human can afford.
once M decided we should explore the L during daylight. there was a mean bimmer he wanted to steal. I thought he must be talking about a tank but then he explained that it was a small vehicle that could fly, could blend into clouds and hoover. like a black helicopter? sort of, but more of a flat spin. what will you give for it? ..a couple of the books. Books?! - not THE Books! maybe just the newer ones, they have no power. even when the reader is pulled in by the sound bites? don’t worry about it. but I was.. I closed my eyes to drown between his lines greylight, hitting buildings like blood a blue sky paraphrased by slush, bits of scale circulating thru patches of black sinking deeper, the water a throat of eyelashes, of ink, torn flesh moonbitter scars that pop and bulge the taste of salt soundless words under words trying to touch pieces of heaven dotted with sky, soft as toes in the sand
M and I try to sleep on the, smothering comicbook type bunk. we wait for rain, listen to Vangelis. recite parts from The Lady of Shalott & so the days keep running together. I develop an eye infection - M says it’s from the neon dust. . something about how the colors are poison.
Even when i wear layers of clothing you make the back of my neck tingle.. are your hands warm? I smile because everything turns into something else.. there is a naked girl in the box above us- another in the box below.
our bodies are hot on a desk in front of a polished mirror > pure to
see - white lace > and starched sheets, chiffon and minutes onwards,
convolution-spending > the it vibrating when we of now, despite our partial partly > I expand him in my pupils. he’s on it and curious, anytime, to float with the shift > his body to me, it’s real and everything, flesh moving forwards > on a repeated light spin <
the merry go-rounds > walls. I with a cig, go rounds between sheer
curtains with him everywhere, he is my bedroom, > in its Merry- >
Wonderfall. > even away, naked, in books > He’s the
same>,wombed, sometimes crazy & stray > I save the naked,
go-rounds, reflect,consciously. i don’t know what it means. the repeated
can box, wear vibrating tints rosy. > Wonderfall. repeat me,
even if jerk i ly, always, day.. even in his days of curtained silence, I
keep these pages hidden on the roof with the cool rain and leaves.