Trying to say the th thing i can’T say can’t think
The c(h)at // The video
not available in my country in your country
You’re not my country this is not my tongue in my mouth
You’re not my friend, you can’t help me. I’m trying to  th ink
The secret, fuck off! Can’t you let me have my hole? Can’t.
You left in the system not a single hole out of which tot hink
In the system which is only holes, punched, th ebad way,
my eye gets bigger and my sight is getting smaller
oblong though, as in a kidney, anadrenal gland, or hair.
Looking at the inner side of my thigh as your thigh we
Decide to chew the violence. If I can’t bear to apply
the sufficient force will you do it for or to me? It will be my
Mercy, my bland heart.
I’m looking a the lake
I’m looking unde r the lake a t t he floor, at the how
The floor remains unclean de spit e the water and i rub
Mself on the waterd, on ist interface it shies away if i
Lok over the wat4r though, over the hill which leads the water
And conviinces it of s destiny, says here you are : you are here
Lovecates the water sees it ingo ist hole draws tis circle of tres
Around it on etwo three and so on untilthis is a rhythjm that
We cd dance tob t how can the sun be i dancing off the waters
Bruised face and also directl to me in my eyes with no medium
No difference betw inside and out, oft he thisd thigh,the
He says parataxis can’T do it and it si right he we ned the touching
Need to touch the face oft h efuture feel its hair, its ash. Slag,
synthetic dust, glimmering ember even lighting into the rainwork,
the roof of  t he building growing in wakefulness, everybodz trying
to remove themselves frm the situation, rooming w friends, where
ist he thought i wante to thing its hung there it is paring. You have to knife
it out of your thigh it is in the glands and can be discharged into the surroundings
th eshrubs and their shrews yes fucking sick them eat their flesh and make
them sick with your illness you made us all krank and we will turn your
cells the
joy of painting we’Re carrying your code now, it’S make up, made up,
we are your little rats you shouldn haf made the sewers wer un through
the servants we hast o eat them you left us nothing else we
had nothing tot hink with, limping thought, toward death, though i do lie,
my body does
welt in the suntime, eclipsed by a mirror, making up fr lost time and going
bakc to find it. Picking p th elost objwcts, what is in their spaces you sed
they are all thirsting spaces i poured water in to yr heart to give it but to drink
but if it could not but accept my gift. They put the property section right up the top
it was the only thing you could read, the clearance rates, zero vacancy,
they sold next to it, like it slipped from ist spott on the
monkey bar s the // article bout the family in gaza living with a bomb in their roof
for seven months, we must live with the bomb. They say. But you can’t look under the water
it burns your eyes
There’s a darker sun moving in front of the burning sun but all you see lol
Is ist thog
Ught, ugh
Look on lookin lookon

With honour, troll habrour and port of safety. Knock knochen, ist the po lice,
they’Re in your hair you cant get them out. Only with the help of a special
conscience, attention to  t he surface, in your body, repeating the movements,
a job looks like something you can ear but it makes your eats hurt,electricpain in the wrist, wearable , youre not ready, you can’t take tot he skies
their pathetic logic, i wanted a langueg in which the image would focus
make langue as a lens, le  tip of the needle passes along a shelf of vertebral bone,
piercing the vein, haemolising the sample, the red cells have ruptured, imparting
a pink colour to the blood plasma. Sample corrupt, the colours fail to fit
your expectations, they bend. Side-on, failing to find the entry poiit, boil
the water, watch the tea crud, curdle, rebellion.



This entry was posted in adorno, art, blood, error, gedichte, language(s), poetry, poison, utopia, violence. Bookmark the permalink.

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