us/them

i see this in my head: they deliver to one another a curious silence. uzak, screaming together as they jump into the sky

here we are saddled with other kinds of distance, less heartbreaking and less grand because real life isn't, right? it just dissolves and moves on, absorbing new forms

us, and them: blood only courses when we're at a distance stealing time for each other. zzz lick. but just us and i and we disintergrate. i block from sight touch and smell all evidence you were in my head.

no there isn't an us without them

but clearly that isn't real. i see in you the hurt as you think of your her, a lithe warm body contorting to the sweat of who you couldn't be.

our demons make us real! knocked over by dissatisfaction discomfort and we are propelled to one another.

leaving you without fullstops is leaving space for more for less for change

rant.

What about this is nauseating?

The extended sighs in between sentences curled lip and contrived word placement the discomfiting secretive grin the eye rolling and quivering lip you are throttling and you are choking because you are like a lungful of mercury flooding through me, gushing into my veins and thoughts. You remind me of another smell I could no longer bear to be around. Even now if I happen to share space with this I must hold my breath -- as inconspicuously as I can-- to keep the bile rising through my throat. Because we must be civil mustn't we.

No I want nothing to do with you or the ghosts that you battle with thank you very much. All in all it's like I walked into a shop with yellow clothes and a big SALE sign on the door and its obviously much less than the life I thought I could have had at bargain prices at that.

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?