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Wednesday, 16 July 2014

Swarms . . . (again)

sunny dead head conflicted & lying condemnation
do you know summat about dead vowels
she says to him how even the most fucking proficient
and articulate lie gasping amongst non-fluency
features & meanwhile the bourgeoisie get wet
for fabulated waves of raggedy others slyly 
intent on stoking up the fires of idiot distraction




to breathe to breathe but no there's no
breath a 
            tumescence of a 
h e a v i n g
  abdomen but a breathless
joy in a pair of wrists and stretched 
      tendons a 
      cat wriggles under my skin 
his skin his
  a bus
enters his body through armpits

he ingests the
 cold cant off the air and vomits air till
  bloodshot and sees 
nowhere
fast & they had him removed




and his eyes prickling with every thought that ever infected him 




she used to run pounding 
running shivering  and her
     vital streams intersecting she 
knows the tendons & strength &
struggle can finally reinscribe authority if
negotiations are an even possible aim
without questioning  rarely 
she's realising 
under the weight
     of frustrations 




a stomach spasmodically contracting 
      he drips into a day his coccyx throbbing 
with an unknown encounter of obliterating
      appetites a smell of cigarette smoke rising
from his hair 
                       his scalp itching with a force of
       abstractions like exclusive and spiritual love
stimulated by cold and constant running water a
        kettle boiling and filling his skull with bursting bubbles 
and they're all here even Humphrey Bogart & Jean-Paul Belmondo




electing masters is a sick joke & she knows it
they know it




a life shadows a living hand lingering over a plate of cold pizza
an elbow joint flexing and electric shivering along a forearm
across palm to fingers the surface written with a cancelled revulsion
a calf muscle at twitch and lust spreading out from the small of a back 
a spasmodic phrasal contraction catalysing an ironic flash across a face





the quivering of reactive forces fascinates us & our curling
mouths betray a lack of clarity as combat ensues 
our legions multiplying amidst showers of flame
and we light up or discard cigarettes





a brightness of air enveloping her head 
she sings out
     in the moral fury 
of cockroaches 
              repelled by the stench
        of human flesh






I think it’s because I’m broken and barely functioning at all in 
fits so old I forget people's names ungrasping at 
a paucity of fading resources
your name and your wife and children





he feels he's going blind while seeing with perfect clarity
a friendly deprecating grin a black and white dress
a lunging forwards but his skin tightening and crackling
he can see nothing although he sees perfectly a wall of 
swimming blindness through which he sees perfectly
without it registering correctly he feels a malfunction
he's incapable of grasping his blindness more fundamental

than sight or a failure of sight as his palms are sweating

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