July 21th '10

My hair has exploded and new shadows set in.

My chest has ruptured and new ridges and valleys appear

to tell of tectonics I never knew existed beneath my skin.

My fingernails shave themselves away from the tips.

I learn of what I hold without having to keep grip.

There is nothing to confide in for I am confidence.

There is nothing to fear for I am love itself.

I am the entire spectrum of emotion all at once.

So I laugh tears and hug like poison,

throw punches as compassion crunches,

asphyxiate on oxygen and I grin when I cry.

I suck up the gases so I can know the air is clean

as I cut myself open to find the temples inside.

July 20th '10

Sistine cobras deleted from the ceiling.

In the future they'll believe

man used to live in the sky.

We've now severed ourselves from the poison

healing and all that. The worn roads of bellies

we passed on by.

Hide the scales from our eyelids

the antlers from our ears.

To hide our paws from the dirt

they will fan out their hoods,

bare their fangs,

and ignore the rest of our body.

July 17th '10

A bird call rang from the black ice beer can
its tone glittered roughly somewhere between that of a dying cat and an orgasming infant
as the jungle canopy of aluminum ran from the ceiling in fear of the quicksand healing
a cascading cacophony of vocalized hollering drew over the crashing cans
loud enough to be the plummeting's soundtrack
alone isolating the visual from the audio and leaving no linkage to absorb

flatten my defecation and I lost amazon reason to believe the bending screen
the blending means pull hard
and wrench from my bass a concrete tiger
eyes slight as bamboo and dilated as television
wrists clatter ladder and the monument
once again is whole my stomach full
katana slit and shard belly buttons blue prints
now cut a fucking hole in me
and let the raw meat bloom and crawl and stink

My Alone

During a Pranayama this morning the sweet silk taste of pussy filled my senses with every exhalation.

Phalanx formed in micro bends, spherical armies converge in circular motion allowance towards ease from the basement bloom my bosom cut fluidly.

My alone is mine alone, first.
My alone is then for us all.

My breath is of limitless breadth.

This body does not contain me.
This room cannot contain me.

In our dreams we find the vulnerability to hook a soft appendage and tug each others g-strings to the side. Laid out flat balance on a fire hydrant or concrete post, pain non existent, never opposed pure sensation. We bite our bottom lips off and grin with our eyes.

We enter ourselves, alone, we enter one another.

Standing head to toe I am come undone.
Camel pose ecstatic together, fearless, we cum.

My alone is mine alone, first.
My alone is then for us all.