Conscience

we're ending up in the

-

the walls against themselves

they twist

-

the thousands contacts; they count exactly for the thousands they are

if they were kind enough they would claim time would cure every integrated sum

but no

the thousands contacts remain the thousands they are and nothing

-

rainy summer asphalts

closed windows and the white shirt behind the twisting walls

a lifetime dedicated a lifetime left and hoarse corrosive

hell

-

smooth slippery memories created out of my phantom past

rainy summer asphalts

deep northern nights

the cold wind of September with the parks lit up in bloom

denim coverage of the designed life

-

we're ending up in the

conscience

and the bullshit that flies out of my mouth and hands

and ass.

and you will fear death not

after all those transparent lukewarm sips

so many, even my finger looks like a maiden

the pale rose petals I baked

are pale enough to make me sick

and be sold as love

walk the stairs up, walk them down

one step is granted

the wrong before you collapse

heat and moist more willing than the most

available and ready

fuck August

and you will fear death now

.

Lying in the river of time,
often the waves of woe
have entirely submerged me.
In wandering and in prison cells
I spent my very precious youth,
my life
like yours
has been seared.

Ai Qing

-


Sun over seas
not the perfect weather to return ourselves
amidst the dearest of the waves
hands and feet and heads are sailing.
Another part of given time
drowned before our eyes.
The lisps stay lax
marking our way through
the gutter to the ocean.
Seven deaths afar
there lies, terrifying,
the clarity of our integrated surfaces.

Today has been

every day has been

imitations

I don't

I don't either

where to

nowhere to

he told me 50.000 times not to exaggerate didn't he didn't.

The bond of the second

that comes amongst an ocean

of irrelevant presence

the smell and the offense

nothing unpleasant to this

let the rest complain

it keeps flashing in my head

all escaped desires gathered

-

where again I find you

discover and explore like virgin land

where again I touch you

weep and smile, first faith and last

-

I've been the great lover

three good years now, at times better at times worse

at times more of a hater

words traveled their circles

came back over themselves

-

empty hands

I stepped back sipped the gin

where again I find where again

only where dead or asleep

a bitter loss

-

I never existed

you were for a route

too bad.