moon in l
moon in m
moon in mmm
moon in shhh, blue "shhh", blue stars
"innn" in "pain"
"i" in both
"t" in the end of "pain", like when you do the same spit and speed with "sweet".
with "piano" at the end of scorpion.
with "no" of piano sting.
please do "sui" with "sweet". sweetest.
"dictionary - pain" that spreaded on the wall. on walls.
to know pain or to feel?
snakes turning "pain" into "passion".
you need two snakes, in center. taking away "I" from sound.
I'm in st#bborn immersion in mercy, like snakes.
I will find it in mercy or pain?
image, pain. not the image.

black moon and grey moon
little black moon is hook
with handle in a shape of cross like ink-cross on neck.
little black moon ingrained in moon, in empty focus, in identical yours, double manifested, double sticking. in velvet glue, in well wet, in black honey, like cancer. of everything. like can'tcer. of everything. and it's happening in my hands. i have little egyptian bed in psychology of my hands.
most far moon point, her sickle sticking in ****** with one of two ejected disembodied nodes, with weeks-corridors.
they're glued like when day of first *** and day of ******* get glued. their substance cataractize the direction of catharsis.

moan innn ec-lips
between twins tonguess
in sick-red kiss, in sacred ****-red
in drying «yes»
but say not only «yes», but «you» too.
somewhere between yes and you i want to find a word.
fingerlips, lipsnails, leuco-sapphires.
loudmother?
and stick to big skissors. don't live without them.
stick fingers into skull on knees, wash the nameless bones. their voices, they whisper back.
"you are more than this", they hiss. i know they lie — i am only this, only ever this.
I want kissing more than you and you.
no feed, no feet, no free. no water, only fat. no curing, no schools, no studies, go into night like in school, only mouth, only lying
between wars and swords in words, like book that like legs splitting almost equally somewhere between "alice" and "******", "******" and "dracula". between witches and enlightenment, and light of ten men.
talk with words by next word.
ask words of that thing that they're know.
want thank you for each touch of keys.
said one word on the floor, and never stop.
swallow thin short golden chain one by one, from skirt that close to floor, swallow their shhh.
kiss empty fast circle
kiss ardra, kiss bhar, kiss rev
kiss wish, wishash
kiss cats with long crooked necks, a cat that licked raven's head.
stroke between cat's eyes with one finger.
not lips, not much.
is it better to be unkissed or to wander through the streets?
am I ardra, or not? with that through my teeth? am i written "die" or not?
cards thinned like skin, too long in the sun, old cards on belly, tarot on the white long like dress table between fish bones, tarot *****, t-angelo t-anger, and jade walls under my back - that's all I want.
and inner became double.
and three parts.
and the blood on rice on the street-soaked-butcher shop, and hands on it. each grain, each drop.
I don't want to forget the fish bones, boneless rice-worms. street with cauldrons, screams, progression of forms of black birds and animals with suddenly crystal blue membranes and thin-walled clean ***** rolling out of them. with stairs right there. bare ***** smart feet, roll over crossbar and laugh.
please let everything roll over the rocks.
the stones, the bags with ropes, the metal objects.
let the bags with ropes drag themselves into shadows.
please, a burning carriage.
please, fights by the falling waters.
please, horse's eye.
please, no obsession with wholeness.
at the same time I want the only place where I can read the letter to be the tall heated statues, on sun square with chapel, like clocks.
i trace letters with fingertips, burning myself and letter with each word, but it's all will be at statue's feet.
but if "read" could be always tied to "feet", the rest of life is doesn't matter.
and i need Bluebeard with a husband in a wife's room.
all wives are starting to stirring.
I want you like a tree.
I want you like a three.
and i want to lay on the drums. to love creatures without hands.
with what these creatures love? with teeth? with bones? with two cоcks?
I saw the drum that never harsh.
I want drums arranged in lines by mind, under skies with weight of water, I want fcking in every drop of rain that hum like these words with "hum". written in crystal and chitin. i don't wanna room in every teardrop. I don't wanna universe with tree in every drop.
I want drum, I want murd, drum on knees, drum with white fibers, drum as salivary *****, piano like drum, moon shhh and croaks through screen glass into screaming eyes and in body like in alive theater every night. skin-venereal films, nevereal. groove of magnets, loops of sticklips and little, like teeth, pieces. antithesis in backing vocal.
I want the green man and the jade man.
want movie where Hermes in dirt, in mess, want sister of twins, little black m*ss.
I miss you and only a kiss in the many years ago dead cancerous brain of horror movie director calms me down.
the cancerous brain whispers back, "kiss me again".
snakes: do you wanna let them crawling on your body or lying on them?
do you want them crawling or lying?
insomniacs singing scales between us that hum with hymns to the alphabet that tasted and unspoken.
flickered out by flickered tongues.
tongues that are used for smells.
i just want you to swallow all of my secrets, i want that sharing and that buring.
my sense of life is like a secret that has been splash out into the cooling cosmic void. this secret really like secretion, and it flickers and splits there, in the. like Emily. that was Isabelle. when she went to her room...not her room, it's hystorical hysterical slip. but in a separate room with door. It's not hysteria, it's tuberculosis historically, literally, from literature.
hundreds of snakes: were burned.
hundreds of snakes: wife that wants give and give birth to snakes.
give birth hundreds of snakes or two sons?
you ask, and ardra would commend. and would she kiss the ash? would she approve your kiss between worlds unspoken?
«crawl on me», she says, like sister of twins, or maybe, «lie beneath me».

after the skin comes world, not lips, lips comes after world.
cat is vanishes.
whole day on knees.
i lie down in glue velvet. i want touch first with hair or knees? fire unites them.
i spill things from box in the center of room into the glue.
i smear a glue across forehead.
inscription glued or blurred?
it is word "air", because I'm in helmet and I'm flying.
with other ******* my back.
although I'm standing by the dishwasher.
she's the one who flies.
or maybe just today even she's can't and lying instead rehearsals
and watching two girls fly
a children in burgundy
and I come in a circus hammock with ropes and red and aquamarine blankets, huge as ships, with yellow-orange pillows with bright blue tassels and then once his blue eye.
I cover her from above
under the children's hands.
somewhere between bells and chitin,
i lie down in glue
binding skin to different ways to write the word «moment».
I want to hold the moon with all hands here, in this degree, in the place of my tongue,
hold her like ouija tablet, but she's too alive like an animal and continues to rotate,
and I am a dead alphabet, and for every letter every night every month 100 units are pulled out of me, pinched, forced to come up with 100 words and letters for each letter, then choose only words for inanimated objects.
i lie down, i don't wanna write that moon watching me above.
where i belong – in the cut. and scream. pia no. films that sawing the light. just a movies. and almost slaving labour. and my love.
I lie down and just wait for my language to crystallize, and i find a rain in the molasses.
but I want to always hold onto "the moon in mmm", I want "innn" and "lclean" in dictionary.
and I have to bury a cat in the snows, just catch her from the fridge