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A present for those who are absent

It's been a traumatic experience and a really erratic ragged up-and-down torture. See, one takes a step wrong on a muddy pavement and the next moment he's slipped to eternity. I would give him 300,000 chest compressions to bring him back to being nothing for a while again. A great miss, to never feel the stomach revolt again. An omission of major sequences to never suffer this apparent correlation of self-deceiving redundant individuals. If you ask me, this will bring the worst infection of your time right in front of your feet. Keep your hands on the table, keep your hands over the blanket. There's this pure innocence of the untouched self that cannot be but admired and adored. I deny to relate with anything but this. The liver regenerates. The liver regenerates. I'm new. I'm new.
Right after this, I have forcefully forgotten:

Screw your culture, spread your intellectual diseases
from mouth to mouth from ass to ass

I'm gladly post-treatment and glad to know you rot
glad to know you not.

:to never recall again.

Fishfinish ICH

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
consumed and saturated
fuck it
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?
Voice softer crawls
than flies
but the best of all is your body next to mine
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

Seeping through the endtimes

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
nothing beats the revolt climbing
the throat from
the head


Make a plea se
stay STIHL for now
taste the copper no
the work comes from the self that is a circular event
start to end same stop
make a plea
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
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.