words like birds and no one ever saw the light or them falling over the sea an old look at the sky what comes out i know not about like things flying out in a windstorm all mixed up sending waves of seeds of language sparks and small disasters in their wake we mourned what are you supposed to do?
tell me and i wont believe you or send me out i am at least well enough in fact on the other side it will be relatively easy not you see to say what has been said or hasn’t but it just keeps on peeling off like an old film. it’s blurry and opaque. it sees with it’s own eye. it reels and falls over and over. it is what it is/isn’t. it is what is is. sanskrit in the brainstem.
trying to get the old tube amp working again. trying to hear the past. trying for something i remember something more real more vivid. was it a trick of memory? is it really someplace?
the dog in heat scootches it’s way towards enlightenment leaving a scent trail. it breaks off a piece of dried shit and offers it up to the master. master lies and looks away. it is filth and betrayal i know. it’s the burnt husk of what i once thought was real. now there is only caramelized venom to suck off. now there is only sweet bitter. now i am the it.
i am watching the watchers who wait for it all to happen as if a show. as if they are not even there. they are my breed but i denounce them. i am a bastard. an orphan. dropped by mistake at the wrong door and then dropped again at another.
it is all n’th generation facsimile. falling into the mirror. once removed, twice, now three times. a picture of a picture of a picture. they built a new better eiffel in vegas. we pack together on cruise ships. we go places where we are unable to hear. we stand pissing at the edge of the grand canyon looking out over our bellies