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Like any system of operation, isolated events will claim
their purchase with the ground. Via the portal, an egg
gropes for the ocean. For easier installation, follow the
decomposing bodies piled up in the corner. Here then, a
conduit to the countless hours we lashed to the prospect
of our salvation. Soft versus softer. Always means never
heaving with shoulder blades. Like the night, the girl is seduced
by leaky periods of darkness & purple edges. Apparently, it's
alright to howl while they extract your organs. What happens
when the girl that represents the alphabet & the girl that
represents an interface with the alphabet divide the death
sentence between them? Triple washed & pesticide free.
Stitched up in the lace moth wings & bulky metallic equipment
that line the lacrimal. No wonder these irregular lobes appear
in their databases. Oh silent programmer, let us dissolve! For the
moon, that's why the ocean dragged this sad story backwards &
forwards. Over & over. One way to divine secrets is to insert
sharp instruments through the skin. Given that our bodies
are already failing us, set the poultice aside. The adjudicators of
objectivity read this sentence & look wistfully over the ocean.
They nod silently. They look wistfully over the ocean again. They
say, take your bundle of hypodermic needles & scatter them
on the beach of your desire. Take your jar of tongues & ship them
to the sun. In each wave, a co-sine. In each circular function the
hollow sound of a bell. The girl places her hands on your chest
& says, these are not my sugar tongs. Neither of these things
make us happy. Seduced by sleep & ravaged by hunger that's why.
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