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It keeps me writing
my desk lamp diagonal
deep in a heart of the night.
I can pull myself apart from the ribcage.
stuck on a window, breathing glass.
Octopus burned in salt, inking onto bleached paper.
Pulling lemon lungs with guitar strings,
smiling out my eyes anyway
ripples in the ocean fishing with a puffy sponge.
I can gummy laugh to the ceiling as the plaster drips away and my clothes peel away and I'm in my boxers skinny
blood filled with soap eyes
dry with water
licking the inside of my mouth
feeling my teeth.

I rub my legs till the sun comes out, fat clouds in the sky
in burnt frying pans
stomach up floods to meet men with old sausages
who laugh at the wrong jokes.
there was no movement in the corner no shadows on the cardboard creations against the wall.
Mask tongue wagging green felt tipped pen says

There's no hope left, today while eating with a friend I heard nobody A say to nobody B that we're all really just piles of blood. He thought he was being so existential and precious, but he didn't know that I thought of it first.

all the old pumping coal crayon machines leaving ridged greasy smears on pieces of bleached paper washed up with laundry detergent and rubber on the beach today.

In fact, when folded with delicate and dexterous precision these formerly puffy piles of pulp may take flight or swiver in a body of water with splashed and splashes of salty blue.

Genuinely wide smiley lip and eye caricatures, praying over the reflective son of their accomplishments say,

"This has been a marvelous morning!"

and

"I love you"

Plus

(i thought yesterday was yellow but it wsnt and when i went to check on it it was black and red! and it hadnt healed and i began t worry i thought why is it off color? and i sat and i spun and i put my fingers deep into th carpet where all the crums and insect sticky remnants were and i felt and it was such a nauseating blue

When I wade, and wade, and wade over ripples and under blue boats glassleaves, light harps and marine bassy sounds filling the shallowsthrough water where fish live and I can only almost sea them through
the salty green sand blushed up in its damned murkyness.

all the pieces were hidden some outside intruding themselves under sofas, or inside exposing themselves, when i broke down the constructions and ate the paint chippings and soured my teeth on the bare wooden wall I caught strange animals)

bummed to catch the train, caught the rain instead, caught the sogginess of my jeans, caught lights of the road, pigeons shitting glue, caught fish wrapped in newspaper my hair pulled off, my teeth punched bloody, intestines burned and dragging out the bottom to the dirty road.

I walked and walked and walked such a sorry state such a skeletal state such a wish full of water and fat
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