what discontinues pain,
having once ordained
the source of soft organs....
pain is such a relativistic
term.... when a sadist comes
along....
        such a feeble cry...
such whims,
   and akin sorcery
to craft the mind as blind...
pain: as a major resolve...
the fury, the road,
the words left in a hangman
tease...
  dangling...
           hangman share...
you: the noose tease...
        a lost artifact of a tease
of a hug...
   cold lung... cold blooded trigger
tell... and you, said affair,
with an "end" worth of  tattoo...
sicko grabs a gun....
sicko would only like an in-group
status...
           what can discontinue
pain? brute honesty...
   loser to a loser word for word,
no church church-going-crowd...
   and then...
the bred of Cain...
                          lost spaghetti
in the format of
        shoe-star-spangled-banner...
and if not he neo-**** tattoo -

you come into the realm of
UNITE THE RIGHT....
and knit begin at the setting
sun symbolism...
and not use the
Europen football hooligan
flare march?
         by now the red
wandul flare,
and the intoxicating march of the
synchronized "cool"
is half the lasting crypto-ergonmics...

tiki torches?!
   in broad daylight?!
   you have to be kidding me!
        football hooligan
red torches... and the protest?
nearing sunset,
when the anti-fascist pro-fetishist
      attempt to go to sleep:

                   besitzen die nacht!

red flares - watch the fireworm -
forget your little daytime protests...
         hit the night...
   when the sloth rests....
      
come sharpened in punk music love,
or...
            come...
            in what is most assured
in the volk...
          cosmopolitan socialists....
the *******... i'd rather
fry, listen to...
    the sort people i'd fidget
in attempting to punch my neighbor,
for? his counter-productive attitude...

come the scenario...
i'm surprised that they didn't walk
out with football hooligans'
flares...
   and instead.... raided
a respectability of a Hawaiian
   private club circuit,
     of a base for
                    private bar encoding.

Apparition,
depise m3.
Always clinging onto
Dissonance.
It wasn't my fault.
The stresses stresses on
And nothing like it
Could ever begone.
It tears me.
You ever rip apart
The flesh of metaphoric
Truth?
Ofcourse not.
It belongs subjective.
Parallel and defiant.  
It belongs to no one.
This continues onward.
It discontinues.

I wonder if there's love after life

If nights of music and manic love
Lives on after we die


Or if it all just stops
If our love discontinues
If our beautiful bodys
And empowered existences
Get swept away into oblivion

Last night You asked me why I am so afraid to lose you

I'm afraid to lose you because
You are the reason why
I am afraid to die

It woos you ... gets closer
and cuddles
It is attractive...

Makes you calm ...ends stress
and the tale of woe discontinues
It is soothing...

It is eternal... remains forever
the only certain thing in your life
Death...
It is natural...

It woos you ... gets closer
and cuddles
It is attractive...

Makes you calm ...ends stress
and the tale of woe discontinues
It is soothing...

It is eternal... remains forever
the only certain thing in your life
Death...
It is natural...

I.
your beauty unravels
The naked skeleton i see before me
Makes me want to *****.

There was never a day of honest calculating
Dissection
With the edges of coffee spoons
That would prepare a sample
Of a soulless, walking stick figurine

When you severed your leg
you replaced your arm.
your arm will grow strong
While your arm is already strong.

II.
Just like all of those small details
In all of these old stories
That you probably glanced over
When you were younger,
The yous became used tos
Rites became spite.

And time
time turned us into snakes,
Constrictors and the poisonous variety alike.
Watch your step.

An old world reminder comes in the form of a simple machine.
Never anything complex.
To change would to be
And to be different is deviance

Gradients.
Residuals.

But here they stand unceremoniously
Talking to a mask of plastic,
Persuading with another.
A cut was all it took,
An exchange of a few solitary words,

IIa.
(the clock rolls by as its arms grow weary architectural decisiveness i suppose to preserve time in a twelve by twelve porcelain circular marker a blind judge of swimming and daylight but also drowning it stalls and discontinues indefinitely lazy hands drop)

III.
The next day came.
One day you wake up
Surrounded by strangers
One day you wake up
Alone.

your new solo project awaits.
When it feels like you were so complete
Six days, five nights ago.
Like a beaten child
Or a dog slipping out a door
Or a skilless percussionist
Time always finds a way of running away.

When it's gone, it's gone forever.
No amount of beggin, bartering or stealing
Will ever bring it back.

When you have a clock,

Never frame it

Never ever frame it.

This gives an illusion of controlling
Something you will never control
Something you can never domesticate.

Take your grandfather's watch
And make like Quentin Compson.

If you can't control something
Break it
If you can't break it
**** it.