never say never when saying never will i ever never say home was never a place my thoughts in this story is an idea of what could have been an idea of what was an idea of what is this story in which i am i and you are you and i am you and you are i and we are dancing in this play but this play is not a story and i am still dancing through this carnival is the world a carnival of vibrant stories all told all held all true these frightful, delightful stories my world is a story hold the legends of yearning to be more than a yarn and my imagination is a building this building is a home this home has so many stories each more true and less real than the passion i hold for this, my story is mine in all the ways it cries in all the ways it dies in all the ways it thrives this world is a raucous of voices all crying for a meaning less real than the pain they feel for these stories hold us and whisper sweet nothings for nothing is sweet and shines with the light of yesterday’s glories and dies with the echo of tomorrow’s flight or was it fight for the right to perish into a wilder everything is spinning now and i am at the center of this ferris wheel, my thoughts the carriages in which we caress each fearful night we pray for such swift return to a spinning right for i am dizzy with the momentum of an honest plight i am dizzy with the momentum of an honest plight but this is not a tale of justice but of capering along the spine of what might have been a wilder dream but will only ever be a world, desperate and bored, vile and bodacious, bursting with sweet treats and dripping with the notion of never say never for when we say never we never truly hope for anthing but always and forever.
:and do you remember what it felt like to be full to the brim to the point of dying
:and the taste of tomorrow still lingers on the back of my mind
:and my mind is a burning house
:and tomorrow is smoking
(smoking once being the leading cause of death among teens)
:and somewhere in the perhaps there was a chance this moment could last forever
:and forever is nothing more and less than a memory
:and do you know how many flowers were born today?
:and do you know how many yesterdays died today?
:and for what do i mourn?
:and i’ve never seen a sunset
:and the thought terrifies me
:and please don’t leave
Scene: A barren wasteland. A lone figure stands naked, staring defiantly up into the sun. This figure is holstering
s o m e t h i n g f e a r f u l l y f a n c y l i k e,
a piece of grass quivers between clenched teeth.
Tumbleweed kicks its way across the frame as that one song from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly begins to play
Suspense builds
Lo! the figure speaks!
RIGHT NOW! IF YOU’RE GONNA TAKE ME THEN
YOU MIGHT AS WELL MAKE IT A TAKIN’
THAT THEM ARE GONNA SAY
“what a right well taking it was”
The grass is spit out; a smile spreads across the figure’s face
for ever takes
and somewhere - i know it was in there- just not where, maybe only some, or sum or rather i wish i could, could communicate that this moment is more than just a sum, that today is someday and it is also some time and it is also no time and it is all yesterday and it is also and it is also and it is also more than whatever was the matter and it is exactly the matter for whatever is the matter and the matter is each individual piece and sometimes I believe i am the matter and sometimes i believe i am the mater but i know i am more than the matter and less than the matter for i am a day and i am a mourning and i am a morning and i am a joyous - no less than momentous - breath of sweet sweet condensation, for which i have no remorse - for which i have everything but regret for which i have regret for everything but today! is now and today is no and today is known and today is unknown and i am today for i am yesterday and i am unknown and i am known and sometimes i catch glimpses of yesterday in the mirror and it is sweet and it is suddenly today, for how would it be possible to witness something that is less than this exultant now. someday i hope to worship. someday i hope to love, someday i hope to speak a word of wisdom, someday i hope to speak a word of love, for i have love for i love for love i love and for love i worship - not myself ! surely! but you for you are me and i am you and we sit down to supper together every night and pick our brains , such sweet delicacies! such delicate sweetness. each thought is a tender fruit, and the juice of it beads your brow, with such consternation we dine on each other; strangers to desire, strangers to now, strangers for love, strangers for ever. for ever we lick our lips in the face of this rolling future. for ever is not a delineation of time, but rather to worship ever because we have defeated enough and all we have left is ever, and ever will sustain us, and ever is the only thought we have grown. for ever is such a sweet notion, but takes
a while to chew
there is a discordant memory that jostles between my stomache and brain
that is to say that i am hungry
that is to say that i am forgetting what it felt like to be full
that is to say that pleasure is a memory
because certainly to be full is a pleasure
no?
would i say that hunger is a pleasure?
would i say that the memory of fulfillment is pleasure
ah, yes now i see it
that is to say pleasure is a memory and memory is a hunger
and i am hungry, hungry for a pleasure whose taste i do not recognize
connective sin
you
stretched like
a drum, a con
servation of re
sourced locally
not quite sust-
attainable in a
smaller motion
sleeping in the belly
of anticipation. with
one leg cocked up t-
hat is to say a wet,
dreams never come
easy for a longer verb
as if a thought could
stretched like a drum
and your, and your
tiptoeing through my
room for more & more
but much less than w-
hat would break this -
mirror a past I saw tom
morrow morrow morrow
like a paid griever, loud-
er than thou, trying t-
o top this, please & please
at their own pace
breaking
soil is necessary for
well i've basically been
saying you gotta break
eggs make an omelette
in a poetic verse as if to
hide what I want to say
which is to say i'm truly
fascinated with this
moment that hasn't
happened but which
i can feel sometimes
mainly when you
i break a little bit
but in the way that
flowers break going
in and out
but neither of them
violent just a polite
please&please
listening raptly for a crescendo
that sounds more like
you've said this before
than something
like the desire to break
something that's perfect
could it be as simple as
something not being said here
last night i wanted to be-
to have a reason
as if this place
isn't real, and i'd rather
bruised for the first time in months
not enough not enough
stung by a belt across my back
not enough not enough
made you watch me beat myself
not enough not enough
i don't believe i'm the object
although i am an object
but not so perfect as to break
it's this unspoken thing
between us
this perfect silence
that lurks behind the words you
say you're interested in violence
&politely excuse yourself
when the sun sets
violence surpass
and i never wanted to hear
another word unless
it could surpass this violence
and i never wanted
to hear a violence that
could surpass this word
and a violence that could want
to never hear this world
unless
violence could surpass this
never wanting
a word to heal
remember there are (or was)
more room for expansion in
a small room
now redirect
expansion in a memory (or
small
room) there are more
tiny folds & larger aptitudes
like a wet impression given,
but not yet,
carried under slack ripples
not to say this is disturbing
but not yet,
but rather it has disturbed
now redirect
nonononononono less than an
expansion from memory not
to say 'move forward' open
your mouth, is not a hinge but
rather a sluice rather a press-
sure causes of both expansion
but first contraction firstcontact
broken clarity
exhaustion stemming from
a
(but not limited to)
moment
seeking clarity of definition from
a breaking point instead
wobbly legs and a sweaty back
spastic gyrations in a dark room
as if as if
singular
(vibratory quality of the soul,
when tuned to an exhaustion of limb
and epidermal nervous system)
notion
to say 'i'm scared'
-not of the dark-
throwing myself instead towards a
greater sense of fear in breaking and
quivering at the thought of being known
quivering at thought
quivering
as if as if
pile of slack and taunt and dripping limbs
could be more, and less than
of
(but not limited to)
memory
meaty tissue
for a sneeze
for a tear but
already; torn
Google : " substitute for
-return-
to an illuminate
state of disarray in which
a disregard forpropriety
greater degrees of mass "
search results
-1-
...
do you think this is
fucking joke
are you are you
do ya?
...
Google : " Return to mass as
result of lack of propriety
in degrees of ____ disarray
lost 'a' within this greater
hopeful for impossibility
through a close study of near
action that resembles a mirror "
search results
-0-
condensation of a moment
cut teeth from chewing
parable
not at all like a pebble
but tastes like a stone
in my stomache there are
premonitions racing towards
well a hamster wheel of sorts
as my mind turns and my
tongue attempts to lick wounds
mouth, bloodless and dripping
there are no victims & nonono
heroes with clipped wings, solar
flares and candles burnt at both
ends
rolling in such an ecstasy
the sphinx asked me for a sip
of my best liqueur
and I smiled
for the space
between here and there is
swimming in itself & wet all
over condensation of a moment
before
rolling over & scratching its bum
just a bad dream hot and sticky
having nothing to do with
wounds
or flammable material at all
and so we wrote a love
song for nothing
gave it our
name&future
but nothing said nothing
and nothing was said
for that was altogether
too much
while the prince of thorns licked
-with a tongue like a rasp-
our hearts into nothing
while the mother stitched
-with fingers like a metronome-
our names into history
so these scars might heal
but not now
but not now
only yesteryear,
once nothing starves and begs
for a caress as warm as time
audible
clearly audible
but also
a heartbeat, that is more
like a thud that precedes
a falling thought, flies
briefly
how to die
How to:
{an instruction letter in parts
equal and separate
whole and dictatorial}
How to Die:
Step One: wake up in the morning
Step Two: when putting on your shirt remember
to stick your head in the hole
close your eyes
{wake up in the morning}
Step Three: remember your name
Step Four: when looking in the mirror forget
Step Six: when eating breakfast
glue-slow so as to
{gaining definition is a process
of input and output
beginning with sensory input
ending with sensory output
the self as a malleable sieve}
Step Seven: remember your name
Step Eight: when exploring your gender
to remember your name
close your eyes
Step Nine: when falling in love
Step Ten: remember your name so as to
break-fast so as to
Step Eleven: remember your name
so as to have something solid to
break fast in the morning
{part of a nutritious breakfast}
Step Twelve: dying is the hardest thing you'll ever
do
not grow into two
into three
into four
Step Thirteen: grow into every thought you
never had a touch that felt
like yourself even though every touch
was a self you never grew
into
Step Fourteen: remember that you are a whole
Step fifteen: remember that I am a whole
Step Sixteen: remember to stick your head through
every hole
{to die is not an act of death but rather an act
of hiding from your own name)
Step Seventeen: forget your name
Step Eighteen: stick your head through the whole
Step Nineteen: glue-slow
Step twenty: die
definition
to say this is
that and that
is this is
an inherently violent
act I: Never say a word
about about
the loneliness of definition
the definition of loneliness
to say that I am not
you are not
I
Act You
: Never open
your arms hold nothing
that is this
is that is
nothing more than
Act We
: approximate distance of
definition aren't necessary for
sight but definitions are
necessary for:
thought before act-
before I
before you
definition of loneliness
necessarily between
quiver
unequivocally
quiver
when looking at saying
"I am I"
one is essentially saying
"one am one"
one being divisible by itself
one when multiplied
effects no change
now this is a rather sobering statement
1x1=1
1x2=2
1x3=3
1x4=4
it's almost as if
"one am one"
entails the idea that one
doesn't actually exist
"I was that"
"I will be this"
it's almost as if entails the
idea that one disappears