myself as a child
was a teacher to me now.
i knew then
that everything
is alive.

smooth stones.
round puddles.
no corners at all.

there were spirits,
spirits wanting.
someone to inhabit.
a body to be pregnant withem.

the room was a woman.
smooth dress.
no bra.

give the children something
to eat each other.
they are not a mass of lives,
but a flesh of hunger.
a massive
anorexic fly
en route
to good filth.
a snake
turning its jaw so wide
as to turn itself
inside out
completely.
a congress of monkeys
in a competitive ****.
the sun
swallowing its own soul.
folding darkness drowning.

born in a three piece suit
in a room full of unmade chairs.

hospitals, for many people,
are the dividing line between them and death.
places of worship, for many,
is the dividing line between them and god.
people, are always,the diving line between them and people.

i build little statues of food
for unsuspecting art enthusiasts.
i paint the museums walls
with water and soap paint.
sponge brush.
receive small portrait of
numbers and amounts
autographed by curator.
i trade these for
life sized sculptures
of counterfeit counterfeit money.
i take these and trade them for
little statues of food.
i eat these as a statement.
it is all very conceptual.

there. a percussive mind.
a dream of a bird
fighting its reflection
in the water.
until one finally drowns
and one learns to fly.

the satanimal burns alive
in its skinternal lucifire.
it is a howlingering echollaboration
to a mind-shattering deafnest;
a cracked skulltivatingling cripples
its skeletongue from speaking.
-a fusion of chaoscillating worderivative confusion.