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the wrong time is swelling


static from the bedroom

my stomach sits by the door

it has not slept


a girl screams into the night running water

knowing she has no leader


where is your home

if it has three entrances

a gruesome sense of humor


walk around

you say a lot at someone else’s house


an underlying tendency

you cannot hear the music


you see something suspicious within this state of flux


believing in anyone else

you neglect the crown covering your head


not wanting

a frail sound creeping downstairs


under a deep sigh

the curse of sheets


autumn blush

how could I walk over

when resting right behind her navel

the midnight moon

was a present for me


I clung like a skeleton’s hand

and soon the twisted tree began to reek

extremities rotting

because they did not know the question

the aetheric link


yes with all my might I warn you

the injury is as irrevocable as your gaze

a friend drug along the beach

making time for chit-chat

and in this night

I ate myself

body up

in the water

I never closed my eyes







her shrouds carried her blushing

another village fell away

no longer able to distinguish color


why did it have to be several women

pigeons beyond repair


they are all wisps

sapping from uneven sidewalks

believing there’s nothing to fear

another hour









you must be exhausted

make yourself comfortable

no here

not there

now hide your costume and find a suitable plank

don’t fall asleep

we’re almost there






he savored them serenely

as if his mother had brought them in

the reflections in the windows smear with adrenaline

his figure stays

waiting for the girl







your language is broken

if I cannot understand you

I will expect you









I combed her hair for her

cotton shirt rubbing against her face

how did it become night

if we have not disrobed




as she muzzled my rebel battleship

I intended to narrow the trail but





another dissolution

a blotted lust letter

the whore’s manifesto everyone spat on

the grass aches underneath our feet

the earth is clenching its insides

it cannot be responsible

she is incapable






dark corridor

a dumpster filled with empty space






the message units are rusted

and all employees have been dispatched

mass produced words

cheap by any fool

slammed shut by considerable pressure these bins are no longer valuable

rat feces trails lead to remaining life

stitched mouths

and barren elders

why were the stories never spread

the quilt was thrown into the ambers

upon entering the sphere read between these words before MASTER eats each letter




these words to whisper

within your head as I speak to you now

because fusion

costs more than a human



and your mother

must worry

without her loving devotion, and with the potential

to engulf oneself

inside the dark




you are now

MASTER’S shell

and he will disembowel

your current



his grin

constantly meandering down

towards his neck

of bloated wrinkles

from years of dehydration

followed by copious amounts of juices

being pumped


MASTER hopes

that you will



and become yet another vision

of blankness

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