Watch a cartoon, shit
inspired by Naia F.
The taste of leftover icecream
already melting;
I can’t swallow any more days
the slow hurt of late afternoons.
Watch the pain recede, replaced by
restlessness;
heads blown up to grotesque proportions
lips that taste of dust&dusk
limbs slowly rupturing.
The room is simultaneously too loud&too quiet
and where do we lay down
our bodies emptied out of flesh.
We’ve been watching cartoons for hours now,
and nothing coming
but the sonic reverberations
of images whose sharpness wounds us.
I am suddenly very tired
of it all.
Electric Blues
We stay put; nothing can make us stop waiting
our hands so full of everything
it hurts to breathe.
There it is the remembrance
of fractured walls
of mouths so wide open you’d think they would
fall.
The hole through which we satisfy our hunger,
the way we eat dirt like we never stood still&screamed
ourselves to sleep.
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