Sweat under the eyeballs

head has come to a strong boil

empty pain and simmers

of the fingertips

metallic timbre

dilated hours

I lay on the food I've eaten

my face moistens the floor

second right in the crack

save this light

it burns my skin

sticks it on your floral pillow

how I've come to like pillows

a real

lover of sorts

stains on the protective white linen

of a destructive treatment

dust never crawls away

if for once it rests on and mingles with the

sweat under the eyeballs

fuck it

hurts

I'm

consumed and saturated

fuck it

hurts

I'm

blind in the brain before this lovely view.

I saw a double el

el deseo

was it multiplying before my eyes or

was it there before?

Vo

z

Vo

z

Vo

z

Vo

z

Voice softer crawls

than flies

but the best of all is your body next to mine

suave

fingerprints on clothes do they remain or

are they all invisible?

I feed on your missing

I feed on your missing

I feed on your missing

hate these nights now by

tomorrow I mean

in coma until we seeuns

.

That past beauty is to never come

again. Between the six walls of regret every

movement of his 

mouth melts. 

An arranged heartbeat a very precise cut

checkered oppressive tiles

sweet secured exits

nothing beats the revolt climbing the throat

from inside up

from inside.

Ever seen a monster devour

mistakes ever seen

a country of hearts in a potato

still not

stained enough still

not drained

that past beauty

of the empty gaping holes of twenty and some

that past beauty

of the fluid streets of his disappearing town

is to never come again

stuck closed eyelids deep

breaths sighs and

violence

nothing beats the revolt climbing

the throat from

the head

-

Make a plea se

any

stay STIHL for now

taste the copper no

the work comes from the self that is a circular event

start to end same stop

I

make a plea

se 

Triste

T R I S T E

the filth from all the nuns and the newborns is under my nails and behind my eyes that I'd like to

open the mouth and its melting history

never a word again Worte Worte ruhige Liebe

un

plea se

do you at all?

Copper no the work comes from the self that is a circular event. I'm a waste at a loss.