this is now

smoky dinner with a most beautiful banker
too much in my opinion of a dreamer to be slicing and dicing numbers all day. she shrugs but thinks the same my spirit disappears into ether. leaves you wondering why you do anything that you do when at the end of the day you just do it you could like anything and dislike even more like life could just be giant facebook trawling through people's lives which will always seem more interesting than they are and your life will always seem like you wasted time watching other people but that's what you have to do, right? watch. listen. think about think with and feel, even through alien cities and crackly phone lines you must contort your gut to ache with them and exult with them but you're just sleepy really and you just don't want your sentences interrupted and unsolicited advice and the smell of other people on your clothes. but it happens.

a fellow misanthrope wants me to die drowning in commas because I'm clearly saving them for a grander purpose

packt like, pack-it like

shanti weavedin your hair through your full beard

through ears and eye lids dropt like tinfoil

painted over like blinds

creepingcrawling packt with hysteria

words, all we have 

time is running out! 

nestle my head into

flying squirrels red brown little men in striped suits

 an army of me

dissonance! guilt ridden outpourings more, again

 packt like tight tobacco

into your atlas shaped deserts mountains seasides blue grey eyes the eating of the man

the drilling of holes the dropping into ends

under trees crawl into the insides of chicken flesh and buffalo meat unmarked but for your native squiggles 

 dropping like flies packt into your- mouth how many would fit? open your mouth to see! blow them out like smoke rings think of this: billowing clouds of flies  

buzzing buffoonlike 

i situate you in my perlocutions 

uzak! there are worse games than waiting games and i wait 

packt like sweaty men in bottles of fruit vodka

do your mothers eyes see through my radiance?