The sadness and languor of not grasping
Devour, taking pleasure out of the loom
From recklessness
When they disappear, become a whacked species
Failed in the misery of time

I wish I could run as fast as I could
But I keep telling myself I should
And than keep overthinking, never hitting
The striking point
Energy is split in two or three
I wish I never should
Think as much as
I could
Yet I do
And how do I know
These are not speculations
Not a thing is real
But then what is the meaning
Behind truth
Is it what we see
Materialisation
What we hear, what we feel
Is it us, our capacities to reach intangible realities
Introspection, conspiracy theories
Is everything a lie
But what is a lie
Is it the truth
Is it me, is it you
Is it nothing but a thing
Reflections, strands of words
Cantering letters
Flowering meaning
Seeds on tongues
Create, recreate accentuate
That is this,
This is that!
What is this
What is that!
Spell them right, flex your muscles
Harden your bones
Control your mind
Wireless remote
Press play
Resume again

Peculiar speckled stones
on my lids, in them
When eyes are locked and closed
See yellow see yellow
Vision obstructed
Beams of sunlight slicing, sharp blades
Grasping before dusk
What was left to see
The carpenter shrugged, shook his rug
Early at night, late in the morning
Half of the worms underneath
Underneath underneath, far
Were crying soil and cinder
Flesh puncturing
The depth turning black
Boiling magma farthest point
Unreachable destination
Could it be a goal
Could there be a path
Is there supposed to be one
Dislocated elbows
Shoulders fractured twice
To remember to remember
Atmosphere in the womb
Trapped in a jelly fish
Ashore under the heat
Blaze scorching
Melted slime in the ears
Think you are fading
Disappearing to the world
To everything and everyone
No body prints on the sand
No scratch of jelly fish
Gleaming through water
You were here before
You were here then
You were
When is now?

Fall hard low down
Blow
Nose bleeds
Thunder lighting bolt
Eyes fuse in the midst
Of a spectrum
Piercing bleached visions
Spontaneous combustion
Fade to white than
Rot to grey
No use
Eosin paraffin
Beeswax and waxing cream
Falling head over heels
Over pineapple plants
Palm oil is sweet
Sweet is oily too
Touching the last dot
Turning lurching not
Ready to stump
Upon the toes
Of a lilac pissenlit
It flows, transforms! So far away
Come back or turn around
Comme hitting shoulder blades
Or last deflated lungs
Lonesome table
Lonesome trees
Standing crooked
Facing deeds
To be done
Or undone
The rope and tie feet two
Throw up your intestines
And wake up someone new
In or on the floor drowning
Hearing static
Hearing aids
And then never come back

Pavements made for pedestrians
Are covered with nothing but slight shadows
Walking on the edge
Fall off a 5 centimeter cliff
Into puddles of delicate magma
Laugh it off
Stand back straight
Up high
Head almost
But not enough
Touching the clouds
Doves are weeping above the mist
Olive branches in strands of destruction
Connotations amassing
Dynamites, pop. Pop.
Tasting feathers
While high frequencies slash eye globes with blades
Cuts above the hay
Vibrations penetrating
From anywhere
Whisk the brains
Look at the hands
look at hers
At his
Grin, frothing, grilling, flaming
Fading into dullness
Feeling water digesting
Eyes batting, lashes flowing
Chest rising up and falling
Down
Where knees are popping
And knuckles white and rose
And skin, so much of it
And eyes, so many of them
Joints activated with oil
Squeaking! Squeaking! Squeak!
Purposeless
Terribly terribly terribly
Girdled and not
Alone

Every moment we breathe through nostrils
In order to writhe our bodies a little more
Forgetting or probably intentionally
Desiring to erase
The inexorable certainty
That each and every sip
Takes us on a magic carpet
Steadily, gradually
Towards our expiration
Consume to
Consume yourself
Gulping down a squirt of sunscreen
Coating our brains
Pale-yellow light bulbs radiate
Make-believe
A puppet, faceless dancing
Restrained, squirming
Not being able to wipe off the mask
Painted faces with charcoal and wood splinters
Simply because we, and that is an embellishment,
Are no bigger
Than a dehydrated pea
Underneath

Drying out
Under your spit
You are not sprinkling my hair with dew
I am not the flower
Concave lenses cover the cornea
A patch of salted water
Blurs and blues
Upon weaknesses
What am I here for
What are you here for too
Maybe if we hung ourselves
Where bright lights shine
The sorrows would dip their heads
In a *** of boiling sand
Stale sweat stains
A smell one flick away
Still emanates
Through the pores or upon skin
Presence presents itself
Stands, facing a blank wall
Reflecting the mirrors reflection
Where am I
Knocks resonate through dirt stained knuckles  
I know
I knew
Glass is boiling
Sand is forming
Crystallizing
Breathing breathing
Quicksand
Where sheer filamented fly wings
Are reaped under burdened black skies
Long forgotten, permanent
In trenches and creaks
Long, at last, lasting
They are wearing gravel capes to cover up the crimson-gray
Retire, land it over
Hand by hand
Wrists tangling shyly
Through the mist
To the sight of blind
To the mere sense of moths
Covered by an inch of dirt
Obscured and
Out of view