the speeches of ours not so shark-ish as mine when it is necessary for the utilisation of sea-creatures except what is mine is also ours and when i cannot explain this is when catfish have my own tongues [some other tongues lost in your ear, actually – you love it when i do that – and the under-flesh of first tongues trapped in jars of sweet things] but meanwhile all the breaking is happening outside outside outside and forearm hairs set the night a LIGHT fire LIGHT fire fire so really i then find myself wandering, wondering who is to say the female confessional is xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo/fillintheblank/ but essay the juice of it all so there progression lies.
escape tubes are lonely are blocking are you are lone sufferer escapes are ball of bands rolls towards slowly to swallow
you
if you can remember when we sat on bricks and there was no ashtray and as you explained Engels or whatever i was slowly reaching my toes into the bricks and they were sinking and clenching and then all of two minutes later but what actually felt like eleven hours later i unclenched and they removed their nails from me so now whenever i think back to the night about Engels i think of my toenails lost inside those bricks silent always because who wants to say
not me not ever
to speak in always typographical error resetting constant
to resist oppositional combative desires to [i.e.] admit death
to eat it and share the hammers
