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Alguien dijo que la soledad acompaña a los que buscan

The broad days of pause.
Gin belch
narrow street beatings
my back
would burn against
that wall of anticipates.

The broad nights of ill.
Gin belch
quenching thirsts with
contaminated fingers
subcutaneous revolts
burn the sofas! they would yell
those broad nights of gap.

Comparison as seen in championships
the broad days of abuse
the broad days of abuse

the contracted silence, does this ever does this ever
exclaim no this silence belongs to a comatose sleeper
purely mine

a world of ants playing by magnetic immaculateness
might as well resign
as before this twitching star
stands a white substance absolute as never immobile frozen
yes a white substance that belongs to a devoted loss

explosions of gallium truth in my head

oedema and an arrhythmia of spades hanging from each armpit. First person murder, first person hate. Concealed missing extremities under boiled white sheets. Do I want any do I want any no
no keep your arms and legs and kinds for yourself. I am a keen seeker.