snivelling like fat fills a purpling pocketful of face. prepare in the manner some women possess an extra thigh, pouty-lipped optimism, doctor’s orders. and it’s all mine - a plate towards my jaw. daub with frozen peas and retort with sole, not forehead or fist. love like a brother, like biology boy. familiar, pity - too many other bodies here to do this properly now.
hid hands match chewed dips in lips, scabbed spongy. out, you fancier of sharks, freckles, peppermint, felt.
Go on, style yourself into some bizarre anthropomorphic flower (please, spare the details. murk and rank response will dissolve us soon enough, just you wait).
Contact (these zoologists have such warm fingers, such deft touch).
Refuse. In the park, get down low on the dirt with back straight bent knees bend neck nudge knuckles notch the nerves (cut that out, cathy). There’s nothing in there, so don’t look for it.
Observe from this angle a cloak of pigeons plus the wearer, grizzled and dainty, plus arched palms and valet service, shiny water-skimmed air (hello
Apollo), cycads (are they?) and the ubiquitous figs ...
Eat a yellow apple, before these toothy gritting spells break, speak.
Nobody notices anyway.
I don’t want this any more.
on the bus i was listening and it got all day in the way. if i
if i if i
bbought myself a nice dress. it is red and black and white and i am beautiful. you should know it.
yesterday and monday sucked sugared almonds 'til tongue piled with powder. hard biting pieces dissolved and grew anew (on cob of teeth cylinder, radial design).
in shop i was gone so dessicated by the air con, and hysterical by the body balancing a transistor radio under shoulder fabric, hiding behind pillars, requesting pineapple icecream, impolitely. i said go next door, at your convenience, good sir.
i don't have time to explain. i must get to the religion! quick tell me where is it. show me your notes, can't read mine.
too sweet for my own teeth.
come close, closer. moon fills, heart grows fondant. sweet hurts. voles minxing. this week some close nights had a swollen tawny smell and piss consuming trouser hems on the fire stair. cursory bitumen inspection conclusion: cats or the blanket man. I don’t like hiking that alleyway, but the manager insists. anyway, this evening was different. I thought some answers for myself, and had a funny moment, fleeting (maybe three minutes), talking with four others and hardly being conscious of what I was saying and how I was behaving, etc. looking at an arm maybe touched the arm and the person waxy white. intimate w/ my own, and comfortable, you know. i felt strange afterwards, though I suppose it’s about feeling alright, is it? not really asking
almost walked night through. 'departs ten past.' says it with hair in throat. it was that sort of kazoo-like neck-pipe info-spurt (comb and tissue. blood as an organ.), which i needed, for it was late and i was late and getting annoyed, wasn't I. coughed, caught a chink of air, so some consonants like parcels posted through the rails lodged under the platform. (so now I have a speech impediment. I can't.)
anyway, sweets, my seat was fake, firm and welded to the wall. wall was white. I saw that the floor was not. I heard chanted Kelis lines from a clump of pastel lycra-blend. looked down then saw them silver heels, rickety straps stropping the floor as each station pulled at our carriages. slip inside, naturally. just looking, actually. it was black (though it wasn't too chilly) and the type we'd dye ourselves when we were sixteen. we were that sort, at that age, sure. now this: I see one of us regularly and she's a bore, studies the law, opines pain!!!!! feel so inadequate. infantile scum runny yolked hatchling, chirpy cheapy creeeeeeep!
look -
bodyparts returned.
poetics of decay began.
mine's now not so vital, which is good for me, I guess. I announced something simliar about something else to somebody yesterday and he replied: ohhhhh cathy, I know "exactly" what you mean, for just as I want to make something sincere I simply cannot seem to get my shit together these days. and I said aw...it's all gestating inside yr head, like, it'll come like light in the cold kiss of dawn drawn etherised, prostrate (pls forgive me. what to do. perhaps pull petals from ink - a nice idea and mine.), and how can you hollow out worlds from words of those that make it, for you know you can't just keep on whining, can you can you can you? but how do people do? (not like this, for certain.)
