hypnagogia fissured doll playing devotion masking
devotion game devotion mimic devotion nonsense
concerneed little light to flower. every every don’t with the touch even now and then heaven collapses raindrop spine flirting cry rancour delight delight
as is with god god really
truly When we are stabled, there is to know at it is was. I am 100,000,000 dead baby bunnies and their ghosts because love 2nd reframer the spider of lace happy to be placing craftstore lights on the cellphone in hand our mother and /poor thing lay your head on my shoulder wounded animal vicious in pain fuck light silence beckoning receding self-flagelate on the internet go back to bed go to sleep
in necrosis dreamcradle assuming the nature of enemy
(before ritual: dreamed i was in a many
story hospital, and i
was looking for her) Little razor blades extracted from plastic disposable razors like an evil squirrel. Furude Rika
NEET scuIt public-dissexction /with hands formed to save them/ Doesn’t matter, dog or lamb, i see you dying
and it’s my fault because i cannot cry anymore or extend insect limbs to capture-cradle you. its extinction
prolonged, soft kitty one paw up but fuck you and please as the gardens of hell you’ll have to protect the part of
you that you can’t love when i no longer can
string of numbers to watch out for mastubatory eulogy infant depression radiation sickness beside epicenter beside bedsores warning sig nstoxIcity icnarcotics issisticobsessionfixatedun Clean Mirrors Dog Mask Word Word Word I Word not the heat in your/my face “our” face sleepy red table red tabtadtradpole. The blood of the martyrs is God’s perfume. Never not knowing cold blood and raw oats in yogurt Discourage eccentricities in children. Sins crying to choose life it doesn’t matter at all what you think of it, little eucharist desecrator
I am twelve years old. I know I will go to hell.
you them you i my my it i my i’m everyone else i i i i different pleasant dismembered everywhere city screwdriver children three matches meadows pants fucking revolution dead safe yelling him here floor кошке white horror somewhere place game restaurant mind place die kill late there water somehow control out left die teeth crying drown death newcomers them everyone sickness me gooshy fun am piss wrong you
miracle opens her eyes
Moonbreak eclipse’s darling,
the sudden wakening burn of our scarling
I cast aspersions, "This miracle is nothing"
as if moon-ashen room-wounds had ever been something
Set the tone for the occasion
I will meet you at the station,
I eat you in the moss
I eat you
I feed you
Wire, not witch
A toy collusion, unlovely
Serendipity has undone me
Maquerade your mark to unlove me
The street opened backwards. Its hinged at Lilac and Crossing
Miracle opens her eyes! In her beneath-bed, we are turning and tossing
In the streets of mariposa, Salome and I are still creeping death-dancing
She milks the black goat of the sun I burn out and she rolls my black eyes with sun-washing
a prayer to the nonsense god
you make it easy,
so easy that i do not have a choice.
you are the purest water.
you are the poison that gives to death a voice.
he is but a sword. you are the maker.
they cut me from this world so your world i may know.
they shatter me to shards. in shards your faces grow.
the child’s only friend, the mistress of despair,
you lead me through the woods.
you drag me to your lair.
i give a name to you,
the precious corpse that leads me through.
what could they ever know about you
since you set me free?
what could they ever do about you?
they gave you to me.
you have made me everything i am.
you have made me everything i'm not.
does he know it's you who guides his hand?
does he know it's you who makes the mark?
tell them everything. i have no enemy.
my executioner has made a god of me.
tell them everything.
we have no enemy.
the fog calls to you
We do not belong in our tonight.
The hills close in and huddle about each artificer's light.
Those are fish-flames, moth catcher!
Come with me, down the collapsing creek, tumbling wet stones,
the cold cleft dripping between frost banks for wild birds.
The fog is already with us. When you looked up, before dark,
and you saw the uncertain gray creeping through the valley,
you bit your lip and crossed your legs.
I'm a smothered corpse. I do not understand.
I tried to close the blinds, but you came over me,
Tying me to yourself, tying yourself to the bed.
Now we’re closer in the water.
The cold is certain that i can know nothing.
It points to the whiteboard,
while we choke to sleep.
i was made with stunning indifference to being and not-being
oh that little hairpin in your eye! felicity! felicity.
we walk, no not we, only you and i with patterned sparrows in our spokes
i am stupid i don't know how to cry
only only only only and one and a half pints of cream
i wear my dress like a harness and you keep your hands like rabbits
you keep your hands like oxen you tie your hair around your waist
my hands are other people's hands my hair is a grocer's weight
unknown to even you and even me, we sleeps like a starfin,
we sleeps in crab cages in the sea
Name Discarded Vessel
In the slip-shod shadow of your white coat
(heavily, whispered, heavily) -to -i'm flattered
With the thudthud of bruiseless pains
the hero's torso, mundane illness rallies
to contain (academic, social, unturning face)
what delights you!
It's white, the better to eat you! and upturned eyes
i know snow as i know the things that call your body home
Name Discarded Vessel the flesh of rose soap
Thrash in bitter death, the unstill birds don't look over you,
they freeze mid-air and burn. Crying silently!
Fushia and green, it's sticky-on, it's the round pocket orb gnome
that reminds me I'm already dead. Don't worry, my crying one, you are not dying.
In this world there are colors, fuschia and green. There are useless objects,
just like me.
There's no time to put your head where your mouth is. You won't make it,
not even able to unclip the corpsed MRI where all is as it is as your mother's your saviour.
As you are uncertain, catatonic, the Illuminati, so is the bread. So help you God.
Make a left turn here.
Someone has to attend to death. Someone has to hold their own infant corpse,
and watch your stunted fetal machinery lurch across the earth without either of us screaming.
child singing by the river
in the mud-sand by the river, a gray sheep impressed its hooves
sitting on the metal altar, watcher snips threads from the truth
soften plastic little tendons in a cooling pot of soup
it tears off its steaming mask
its collected in a flask
wooden shape but smooth and flowing
it expands to fill the glass
put it in the pot with pity
it will scorch and stain the ceiling
it will steal quarters and pennies
it will putrefy the abcess
eating candles in dark closet
birthing through the bathroom faucet
marjoram jam elephant watcher
it moves like a wardrobe, in the beneath floor
snuffing out dust clouds in angles of joist supports
a bejeweled scrap thrown down on the stone floor
soaking up groundwater and liquids birds look for
are you uncertain? i would be sure
take out your mouse teeth and leave them to grow
daisies, white daisies, entrench dappled does
a brindled gray rag or a fleeting wraith flock
it all becomes claw and ribbon and thought
unlighting the lit things, unspeaking the words
lamps move in new darkness
the flesh is unfurled
I know it is nothing, faceless nothing,
this voice these words this hiltless sword.
And it speaks to nothing, speaks of nothing,
and in the painless nothing are its words.
If it had ever been, could ever be,
eyes within eyes and teeth behind more teeth,
that voluptuous decaying bodies
could hold solemn light and solemn grief
then bitch sows and dead dogs rutting
in ditches by the gardens by the house
will turn their white bellies to the sun above them
and know the hell that knows them and the shell.
If it could ever be, I would know something,
even though I am your guilty sow.
for the love of god
I am stuck. I shove crumpled paper limbs between days and pooling fluid,
and I am that toy. I am that one. I know what my face looks like.
Steady the ghost in Place. This is a nothing place. Catch sound.
The fraying hum of torn skin, ceaseless breathing, birds.
A black insect swoops and turns, a narrow miss. The insect is still searching.
Each limb that does not hurt and the slowness of the hands of weight that sits and sleeps and clutches at my shoulders, crawls on me.
I'd take that bug and crush it in my mouth.
Smear it on my slowly dying body.
So I have died and even now I'm dead, go ahead and tell me
just how good angels make you feel.
In this barren Cathedral with ceiling of Firmament, invisible Tabernacle,
show me god's plan for you and how it makes you feel so loved.
his perfect will
I cannot catch the wisp of known between Shadow and Light, my little babies.
It’s Light that pulls my hair and bites my knees. Shadow,
close the curtains and recall
that we are all more civil when we can't think.
I cannot assure you that I am me.
I place rocks to catch your fall. I know it's easy
to fuck your self to death for the love of god.
I know little else, but how to hide and beg and look at things
when they are split open and pinned down at the wings.
crawling on chester's neck
Skin crying at sound (dishwasher is blanket),
to wait with tears burning in salt. Eyes like.
Eyes like vomit. I have nothing to say to you.
I have all and I hold it like my body,
somewhat apart, strung along,
by corner cherubim and Chester's playmate.
To wait pouncing backwards back. Chest crawling backwards neck. In lamb light that isn't it.
To pester the skin of it.
Crawling on Chester's neck,
to pounce at the snot of it, to catch at the pounce of it,
crawling on Chester's neck.
Hand sleeping in ant-white tense, to catch at the maw of it,
I'll wake in the jaw of it,
crawling on Chester's neck.
I stood in the hall for this. Whisper-white fingertips
pressed on the eclipsing line of sight, patriotic flower veils, collecting
(while we should mutter) certainty in little things like self affirming motor vehicles
and burnt hair and your old knees Close quarters Close quarters Close quarters
needled to nighty-nighty gown in fetid lace-carrot gardens.
Where after, quick step little rabbit!, you and I pass by dreaming of plastic bags and plastic gloves
and a bit of indiscretion (for the sake of continuity)
when we descend
when We descend at the black point We smudge our glasses trying to wipe off the soot from the
through opaque lenses We look at our smeared fingerprints and We Will take
off our glasses and locate Eve and her Body.
when We are in the previous tenant's garden We step on plastic bags of dirt bought from the only store
where you can buy those things We did not go in that corner with plastic frogs and plastic clay We know
the smell from when We Were kids.
hear, living, complain, rot,
captain, charge, expel, violet
when We are kitty-corner with the wraith then the cross extends through the crucifix of its shoulders that bisect its spine and We Say !like nectarine orange
flowers, you know, clover bells, the clownfish of our grandparents' garden, that's how its eyes glow and it taunts us to not know, to leaf, to wilt now
though its late and peel off into the wet glowing night. let the snowglobe become maternal and we'll see
what was the real plan for these whelpsENTER
not need, not count, not arrange,
not pilfer, not gorge, not apple
i go to sleep
i go to sleep
it is not easy to forget i am not someone
i crack my neck
i move my breath with the fir tree branches
i am a spell
baby born for your ARG
i make a small noise
when the little paws cover me
Burnt White Apron
Nucleus of Your Humanity
Falsely Forgiven, Cage for my Dismembered Enmity
Bright Occlusion DEERly Beloved Ber-ry-Hol-y
To Delight The
Marked Improvement My Cells Are Becoming Flowing
In My Manger Bluebells and Narcissus Tell
Your Fire Is Paper
Your Light Is Light
It Snows In Hell
lilt towards the most highestest
run fast between the tilting grounds
the marble angels roll in clumps
and if i fall before i wake
upon his brightest sword
the funny pieces take
time to reproach me with their lord
crumbs of my soul beneath his nails
the little thoughts
that fade or flail
deny with certainty my grief
worship to light the ashes
starve a thief
all my teeth are little mice
"please sing this song to me!"
all my teeth are cones of ice
they mark her face completely
come into this little room
play aster lily panther
let the cradle down the hole
drop down the ribbons. gather
here together face and face
our eyes our teeths our noses
we are circling the place
that our weakness presupposes
the complete unnamed new shape
built of hungry hunger
devour form and place
and build it pretty from our dinner
we need to hunt them down
the fear makes me so happy so happy
i am smiling i am sitting expressionless on the couch
i am folding over my cookie dough insides into a smaller and tighter shape
the birds outside the window are looking for food in picked over empty shells
the birds outside the window hate me
i am eating
i am sleeping
i am going to hell
the pink and purple striped egg bloom cannot open itself
i am waiting to tear it to pieces little pieces like the ghouls of my self
somewhere inside i am waiting
while i wander the white plains to find the place where i'll die
somewhere inside i am hating every possible world and each comforting light
in my clay heart the fire is spinning and etching away
little words that i dont know little words with green cat eyes
if it doesn't kill me, it will never keep me safe
every new old house where i once lived and promised my life
is a doorstep i spit on, is an ugly everyday knife
to never more struggle to tend to the usual everyday death,
i damn my eyes and my fingers. i leave all good things bereft.
if my name can be forgotten, if my name can be evil like things born of ash,
you can find me and set me on fire. you can be praised for your wrath.
Missing a moment, stepping over the stair further down than I meant, I curse the cradle.
I curse what I cannot end.
Saying there should be, in a known and recognized shape, something I need not run from,
something I will joyously embrace. Very excited. Very smart. Very reflecting and clean.
I don't want this. I am voyeur dead watching my coalesced self. Remind me beginning.
There is a sweet little rabbit. In my body is cabinets. There are better ways to go to hell.
The white bitter evil, burning with soap all the cloth, reminds me to kill things.
And there is no, there red elven stop.
we dont know at all. evident dear self
evident knowing me and kneeling keen
renewed false dream
oh dear false dream
and i say
you will eat from my body
all that you need
to make the earth a cradle
i am you and you are me and we are deer and we are dead.
in the forest's corner, basket of feathers and the red ribbon.
brown, asleep earth, pond's mud keeping here to terror
here to sleeping.
your perfect fingers close around my broken hand.
goodnight to bones and viscera. goodnight to understand.
i am cats and kittens. you are distant sounds
that wake dogs in the nighttime to swaddle the undrowned.
(my little shroud) container, dusty and unclear, discrete
in cold submission to all that is to be. remedy
taking supine, folds of rougher cloth,
we cast the mold unmaking, the mark of the unmarked.
faceless, secret despair, to wear the absence.
take sharpness alone to make it dull, buzzing, weaker, soft.
take sharpness alone to make the hole that's always and is not.
waking nothing, limping, waking from waking dreams
where pain is bright and seamless. alone i tear the seams.
to make the earth a cradle, to always traipse behind
a mother of disaster and poisoning and life,
we wear each other's blood. we take each other's knife.
the three speak to their father
chester: evil children. we need more evil children
keeper: the pit. we sacrifice the unknown for the known. mothers. long-suffering. i crept about the boiler-room, picking up needles and sticking them in my pocket. i drank flame white blood from the back of ginger's head. matted fur and snow. when i came home from school she was already dead. when i slept in the attic, you were putting away the electric spines that knit her veins into a web to catch her own soul as it stumbled backwards like a newborn horse.
ginger: stone phone bone home like a fairy's ballgown i remember sleepwalking vomit. let me scamper up your night dress. wash me with oil and scouring powder. my pelt is a stinking mystery.
keeper: i hate you. i hate each shape that makes up your body. the dust from the stones you grind one against the other. and i follow patiently saying this is dust. i give them names and the names are all the same. this is screaming. this is hunger. this is something soft mashed up in a corner, scraped up, smoothed out, collected.
chester: when i know that my self-loathing is stronger than my fear of you, i will not know fear anymore. i will pass fear in the street and bend my head, cringing sideways, a nervous useless body. i can barely-
ginger: let us put needles through our fingers when you cradle our spines. let us soil ourselves when you pick over our bones.
keeper: little aggie is dead. ghost material seeps in death vision from death mouth. aggie becoming moon-terror. aggie of the backwards soul. i kneeled to disgrace myself and the room was blue filthy when you put her back together like a metal puzzle like she was a box collecting your knives. i love you more than god loves you you have made an angel from spit and kettle-soot. i hate you to my death miserable and nothing
chester: you have my paws in your mouth. you have my naked body under your soft claws. i am the voice of death. i am a home for curdled things. i have gently pushed satan's pram through the river park. i am waking with cruel eyes and taking hold of the good world and i am drowning it in increments in the cold river while satan sits in his pram and sucks his pacifier. there is nothing separating me from the damned. i have always been weak.
keeper: if you were to tie her to a stake in the backyard i would do nothing. i am a shell that hatches bodiless names. some part of a story. face name thought feeling. this is the correct time and the correct place for you to take a little rose from the garden and push the stem into my eyes until i am dead. this is what must happen. the third color in a pattern. i am a knot in the embroidered labyrinth. you do what you have to.
ginger: sit pit spit bit what the fuck is up with this shit. im a vole tearing off a frog's legs. im a kitten running from a fire.
keeper: im a coward because i never split the peach pit with my teeth and fed you the poison inside.
chester: i am the mother of fear. i am the little red hen of cowards and self-murderers, the weak, diseased, and useless. i was the first to gnaw the keeper's bones.
keeper: blood song and snow dream, the jester holds my bridle. we are evil children playing the toy-death game. we were born of mist and dead animals. we are sick and evil and cruel-
ginger: and we crush you like kitchen ants from our memory.
a small heaven for little sisters
the timeline of fucked, parochial eye fluttr with half-retained
molt-milk. i freeze
the psychic damage, take the minute
dialing screens burned the image i hear
and cannot accept and can not not accept for it is.
to shatter what shatters is pieces "drawn to the blood" (* o *)/drawn blood keeping,
all the way through Nothing, an answer of answerless (answer changing - changing-),
the cradless cradle, miracle Blessed! i am looking and finding (and not finding).
here, good sir, secure,
if not heaven (i have my complaints. a lack of tails and ears. We Require Furred Softness Symbolizing Love to know fleeting eternity)
then hell, i know, has a small heaven (pocket-sized defiance)
the fate of the unworthy to love in little ways
between the rapid red. unspooling me and you, whoever does the unwinding, God or You.
on your way home
say hello 4 me
let him know, that though we've never spoken,
i am grateful for being created insatiable.
it starts with the loss and taking the loss and wearing it like a mask like a bandage that the blood seeps from with answers never good enough
fill up the wound with god. i dont care. i still remember there was a wound.
the devil makes the wound.
i make the wound.
i am the devil. god
doesn't speak with me. he lets the devil say whatever she wants.
because i want her to
because i am hungry for my blood.
i am little i still have to sleep (until i go to hell. until she calls me.)
i still have to nest amid the glass
and grow blue flowers on ground cursed by god.
burrow nestle in the softness of a living heart.
the stars beckon history of nerves screaming the sound
gathered in the black hole, eating noise to silence
we sleep and we dream
of little sisters (horses with feathered wings)
wounds staunched with milkweed cotton
no longer bleeding
...and crush your precious sleep between my teeth,
Before the fawn-wing gander at its bed
To trundle and to succor
a prayer to the nothing god
Like a metal vice in my navel
Take fallen gregarious natures
To cleanse your paper danger
Drool redfly in my eye
To take it out
To make a place where hordes can hide
Splitting spitting out
The needless gathered crime
The only god
Is the god of mucosal crying
The only god believes in me and i am nothing
I pray i die
I pray i die choking on this vomit
I pray we all die
I pray for a new pain
I pray for nothing
I do not deserve what animals deserve
I do not deserve my instincts
I must lay down
In pits filling with cursed water
I must eat death from the hand of that which does not exist
a new blessing
electic tick -sonar my teeth for yillow sna huld tho st to bre bearek no you to hou mknot so nsmkl snot tho li il
want y u hu yu yu yu and nice break it
she does her best
little temp pest
nect dy ay nice goosenei vinexit ni bin it surb lai k it ki kikikikiiyiititititititititititititiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii free of it
get the lost loose
toothe break next loose
i kepp t for can tbreathe swalow llmy boumouth lotto
i though thouhgt thought so
uoi i ou oo i u o lil jakjjjjlsksssswiwiiiiiiwowksmsmsm i
so mich iu rlhtouching aksdkljaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak,
it goes it goe s it around and it breaks down i need nedd this
dont forgtet it com e one let it
i wont get it bet it bet bet bet it
fucking eat her
psy attentio n your my questoin
dream it be it read it see it
jlaj wl like e it yoive got to believe it
after this is am going to be dead and youll how ca n it stip you
iw accepting the interface of the yogutrt moussee alcociousness i wil eat i u i will fuck u
i iwll eat u i will eat u iwill fuck u
cake cinnamon cake this started in the morning
i was thinking of eatin ghher
ca n u catch / curb in bucket of silk the anger smiling hot and tedious a milked hearld beahebenemharvest iiiiiiiii
shes scinging in a cat voice
no were not gointg to stop it
fuck it with a cute noise
its not a bittle bop it
Look at me.
Look at me.
Look me in the eye when you apologize.
Look at me.
Too evil and
I’m sorry that I killed your children
With a blunt knife
While they slept
While you slept
While you watched
While they were watching
Let me see.
Let me look.
Let me count.
Let me touch.
Obedience is love
Love is dissociation
I forget how to let you breathe
I don’t remember how to allow your body
I can’t recall ever permitting open eyes and body heat
What are you doing here and why are you still moving
Why are you still moving