Hiding inside our anarchists
and as scared -
saleable glimpses of
dying in 1993,
in acrylic zombie flip:
he had rented it all back,
& was wrecked,
stranded outside his favourite laws,
free as seas or
unbounded hail
as a spore left inside the language,
not a code made of letters,
but social utterance flaming,
everything was wrong but it happened.
Such thinking forgets
vast territories of our
sected selves:
“all is ours”,
the police power to hurt
& how to eat in hell
where my wits were lost
in splintered oblique english
secured the preternatural rain
grazed upon our
seriously, trickling down our
passer-by
with malevolent archaic sound
"my bag a long knife carries".
Unaroused by official culture
history has been stashed
below a system of false brains
reduced to his ambitions
(democratic)
gold, falling
inside there are flowers
& we are bleeding
with intelligence & gunnery -
weirds have warped us,
his pronouns & his freak,
we are silent within
his good clean mind -
night of the ludicrous fink.
Oh fucking cosmology -
oh mad spit -
the ‘reverie’ is a
stop, oppressive line
“is this is that”
like a mystical shudder?
yeh, that’s hideous.
anyway, false, as I was saying
was watching my character
was yours,
became a clear system,
an impotent closure,
not saying anything in particular,
just sick, just everything.
Just lick (oh, please -
inside the most vivid
words had wrecked them
& their stunned town
(favourite epoch here)
ate its fabled sticks
& starved -
(would flash just like a
(insert enemy here)
(would flash just like a
(please)
meanwhile, what were you saying?
like, just go detourne yourself
(stuffed with walls, insects & teeth
But I was taken with stillness
& malevolent lords
would eat the living hail
back when I was still blood
intersected by police democrats
were threaded with hell
but I was still coins
like any stupid cuckoo blade
“the baser & poorer sort
such whose lives were burdensome”
I, for example
was quite simply scared
but anyway, inside this language
there is no word for sky
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