Do I hate myself?
Not even I would commit
to such an extravagant level
of emotional investment.
Like rotten fruit, I attract
butterflies and repel aesthetes;
which throws me?

Indifference is intensely personal
and might reveal the secret
of evolution's miserable mystery
if only autoerotism would turn
juice to power. As it is
we snap our fingers
and pleasure comes
running, screaming, thin as water
thick as thieves.

[interruption]

The man upstairs is making
his presence felt, or is it leather?
Everyone seems to know him
though I've never seen the light
of his day.

He owns the means of consumption,
the need to covet
a child's innocence
a neighbour's ass
a friend's friend.

Rip off the band aid
and rape the underworld.

We are resourceful in wasting
the ends of production
but mean to the point
of exhaustion.

The woman below is French.
She cries for her brothers
in freefall, sleepless demons
exercising their right
to demonstrate a common fate,
no better or worse than life
or death, but equally compelling.

Next door, the lights are on
but there's no-one to be seen.
Perhaps we've been blinded
by the confidence of science.

I'm moving into the roof space
where I can play mind games
with the third person
possesive.

There is no definitive term
for my irrational aversion
to transcendental meditation.
If this is foreign to you
contemplate no further [...]
xenophobia is not the issue
here; I fear everyone
equally.

It's a concern, this tendency
to lose things:
her trust
his faith
my patience with this shit.

Your ears are burning
running rings of fire
around the proposition
of a preposition, up with which
I am forced to be fed.

It's time for me to evacuate.

07/07/2012

Posted on 07/07/2012
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