Laying on the floor the body of a world
Like a used placenta disposable in the moment of its use
Slightly distended you lay
You you you unconcerned with movement
Movement finds toes and outside of hands
The space outside of limbs moves and suddenly the world moves
Forces very far stir me until my head tips back and I begin traveling toward you
An entire world travels through me as I travel toward you
Splitting atoms burn the edges
Wrought for you
Wrought of you
My heels move my pelvis which is my stomach which is my fists which are my face
You reach the point in time where you must lift your world to your face
I don’t know if I should be writing in the first or second person
You turn and rock into your face
You are a rock star in this light
You tire of your life and fall to the ground in an atonal state of surrender
Green plants are scraped by wintery gusts of wind
Like them you writhe and maneuver until absence becomes merely a line
You rise to all fours traveling contralaterally in an asynchronous, short-lived cadence
Geometrically confused you know you are human yet lizard you feel
You laugh silently as you fall to your knees in a slippery puddle of quantity
Your hand finds quality inside your groin digging to peel yourself open to the lens
Sitting with repose in mind your face becomes a line
You massage your groin until a circle appears
Your legs become bicycles you stand upon as you find a way to balance on this tipping surface
Buoyancy is everywhere
The earth tips in your favor
Your favor is up and down these days
As if traveling through a revolving door made of jello you escape space
Falling to lower air
You return to scraping via faraway force
Reaching your left hand to your left ankle
Holding as if clarity could be permanent
Loss of meaning is epic in your body
Fold your laundry and place it on the floor as you take a shower
You’re pointing toward a slippage that causing our creaking boat to tumble down down down (A futile sailor trying to save the ship)
“We should mutiny more often,” you think. And by mutiny I mean hang out.
But you do dance amid the wreckage in this haunted sunken ship
Like a used placenta disposable in the moment of its use
Slightly distended you lay
You you you unconcerned with movement
Movement finds toes and outside of hands
The space outside of limbs moves and suddenly the world moves
Forces very far stir me until my head tips back and I begin traveling toward you
An entire world travels through me as I travel toward you
Splitting atoms burn the edges
Wrought for you
Wrought of you
My heels move my pelvis which is my stomach which is my fists which are my face
You reach the point in time where you must lift your world to your face
I don’t know if I should be writing in the first or second person
You turn and rock into your face
You are a rock star in this light
You tire of your life and fall to the ground in an atonal state of surrender
Green plants are scraped by wintery gusts of wind
Like them you writhe and maneuver until absence becomes merely a line
You rise to all fours traveling contralaterally in an asynchronous, short-lived cadence
Geometrically confused you know you are human yet lizard you feel
You laugh silently as you fall to your knees in a slippery puddle of quantity
Your hand finds quality inside your groin digging to peel yourself open to the lens
Sitting with repose in mind your face becomes a line
You massage your groin until a circle appears
Your legs become bicycles you stand upon as you find a way to balance on this tipping surface
Buoyancy is everywhere
The earth tips in your favor
Your favor is up and down these days
As if traveling through a revolving door made of jello you escape space
Falling to lower air
You return to scraping via faraway force
Reaching your left hand to your left ankle
Holding as if clarity could be permanent
Loss of meaning is epic in your body
Fold your laundry and place it on the floor as you take a shower
You’re pointing toward a slippage that causing our creaking boat to tumble down down down (A futile sailor trying to save the ship)
“We should mutiny more often,” you think. And by mutiny I mean hang out.
But you do dance amid the wreckage in this haunted sunken ship
Living aquatically is never easy but in such conditions you find out how flexible your back really is
How strong your front can be
How dying you can truly be
How do you die?
How do you die in this light?
How do you remember how to die?
Repeat
Repeat
Cause yourself to transgress
No progress
No digress
Being dying is never easy but I am not an easygoing person
Dancing dying is strenuous but I am committed to this boat
I am committed to being a ghost
I am committed to you knowing the cause of the wreck
I am the shipwreck and the tragedy you live in
We reside, descend, or transport
And you just watch
You are the lens
The only thing I had time to think about saving was my typewriter
It was just down down down
No time
Water everywhere starting at the feet
Typewriter and camera
Music played
As we went down
I knew it would happen
I knew the descent would shape me
To survive I repeat
As if clarity could be permanent
I motorize my memory to reverse the descent
I’m deadening to myself as we decant
The boat that was life is now submerged in a viscosity without names an intelligent artifice
The ocean
And I knew
All along I knew
To lament time’s pigment I hold my back in my hands
As if to remind myself where the past is
Life underwater isn’t all it’s cracked out to be
I sometimes miss the weight of air
I sometimes mess the weight of you
The velocity of a fresh and crunchy salad whirling through my body
These days time is very wavering
Sift and thrift through the space until you find something to point to
It could be your calf or your finger
Or a sun-drenched bench
Or an upside-down umbrella
Or a small poodle dog escaping your leash
Or a footpath full of epsom salts
Or a yoga teacher you want to fuck
Or a trajectory across a diagonally shaped room
Or a spinning pole surrounded by mirrors and you
Or a heap of infected birds their dead bodies collecting in your hands
Or an entire body of water with a new name traveling through
Or a cordoned-off region of your house
Or a broken hospital bed
Or a basin for catching mosquitoes
Or a wicker basket
Or a corpse in a wicker casket
Or the sand between the fibers
Or the loam gathering in your joints, groaning
Or the death in your body
Or the dying we create together in a coffee shop
Or a digital place we store ourselves
Or the waste from a botched surgery
Or a beam of light traveling through subterranean latitudes
Or the deep sea divers’ letters home
Or the twisted bed where you lost track of your face
Or you just want it to end.
