Taste 

Alphabet.

Diet. 

Your young. Sperm. Blowjobs and kissing. Sickness. Saw see sore stomach from exercises. Bound up. Restraints of sadists. Fear, safe words and dangerous acts. He broke her wrist. Dirtbags outside of work. All that drinkin and nonsense. Party, party, good-people. Bringing something. Energy tension desire lists of letters and leering internals. Asking and greedily drinking from the alphabet. Not many Words, not many words, edibles that start with X. It’s saved for the toxic, maybe only me, my thoughts- I’ll go down on an X. My how far I’ve come to this, work place. shaming. Trouble and extracted extacy. Speed is everything and the words that start with I. Edible, I sat, subtlety insinuated myself into the position: “I should try Ice”. Pocketed skin, need, feel touch, want, riddles, skivvy skin riding and folding and fucking my brains out my veins. I. I inject, in jest ingest interest; infested mind and signed signs of fine rind. Zest. For life, for lust and thrusting myself from bed to head-to-heads where pills are taken, blood is bled and racers fall into holes and then the ground swallows us whole while Dougs dig holes and complain about how dead it is. Oh Andrew, cousin.

Wobbling, hobbling, squinting language. You’d use yous, fight family fueds, call guys with cabs and car keys pakkyz, with caps and caps and busted knees these liberties, shooting breeze at refugees from seven seas of trouble. Life in rubble, no life no Liege, not leisure or our pleasure. Situated, sitting, t.v blaring hatred flarin in our lounge rooms, on our streets, street sweepers keeping garbage like fast food for wrappings off our path. Do the math, this temporality, the food, drinks and T we take. English breakfast. Over the paper, our language reinforces that which we don’t understand. Flyaway, but they can’t. Fly-swat in hand. T-intersection, no reflection. Connection: outta the ball park. Western drama, convoys and Cowboys mama… That’s where wee at, for now until it all changes; just a little, and our loved ones die and our perspectives shift. Shit.

Shot: mise en scene. right hand side of the road. The rules, order and stupidity. Zombies, the end of the world. Reductive.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s