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Thursday, January 19, 2012

Seth Walks

and i still don’t  know what i should do.
become had but been have never could i someone like myself saw i
bounce now. things like this don’t  happen til they happen, it’s true.
to  got  we’ve ,done  I  had  fuck  the what like  me at  back staring
they could unlock the sky by standing on a  mountain of  soap suds
imagined  ever who  else everyone  see could i  halls white those up
that’s  when one of  those guys started turning blue on the floor and
if that sounds dramatic remember the light under your darkest door.
.eyes your of  front in  science the with mythology in believe to lame
everyone finally sees. it all has to end, all at once and entirely. it’s so
what saw  i  but .quickly blur to not clearly  too—struck is man high
days grow attached  like siamese  twins.  i was  struck  in the  way a
 and  dawn  the and  dark  the  divides  nothing  how, afternoon  the in
 wrong  about  that; about a  salted  sleep  that ends too often at  five
something  is there  know  i .again  myself   like feel i  .clap  to begin
time.  i hear  the questions  my  father always  asks.  i  feel  my heart
some  in bathed not have i  .head  my  in words no  are there.  games
see  myself   in  there  on  the  floor   watching  someone  play  video
can  i .mistletoe the under  blowjobs of  brag  and curls  cheese down
thank  me for  the risk, and  say  i’m secretly  like them as they  suck
,herb the congratulate they .kept neatly  and  decorated  neatly is but
the  third  floor’s  first  door on the  right.  it smells of old men’s feet
from  shines  that   light  bad  of  halo spoiled  the  in  ghosts  sloppy
to  see  you.  and   they  are  pouring  from  your  roommate’s  room;
happy are they .you   know  don’t  they  .mellowtude  their and eyes
to the  parties where  everyone  seems overly  friendly with their dry
;backbone  confusing building’s  the up go  i  .things such  in  lieved
imitate, that i’m more than  a  mouth and a  gut.   i  have  always be-
i  assholes  the  not  am i  that ,somehow   better  breathe  i  think  to
week’s  work  is done  and everyone  knows how to  breathe.  i  like
the  when nights  Friday  on  shit   talk  princesses  and  boys  dantic
go up the  stairs  another flight, up  dimly lit white  halls  where  pe-
i   .fear the remember i   .themselves    about   and   girls about  said
when  i was  eleven one night in Maine. i remember the things  they
car  a  of   backseat   the  in  breath  cousin’s  my  on  beer  of  smell
    member  many   things  about   the  past.  but  i could remember  the
-re not  could  i   .Romans  before  came Hebrews  if  remember  not
were no words in my head.  i had not bathed in some  time.  i  could
there  .pirate  a  like  stank  and  landing  the on rose  i .end without
one is  worse, the  purity  or the  filth,  remains  a  debate  that  runs
which  though  agents  cleaning antiseptic the  like less  and  smoke
things  passing   through  begin  to  smell and  smell   like  beer and
the and  grow nights  the  and  go  days  the  as  shadow  a always is
at night.  i  go   through  the  lobby  of  plain   tile  and  glass  which
beer  sour  and   morning  the  in  agents  cleaning  like  smells  that
like  a  pair of pants slipped over the thighs.   i  go  up  the  stairway
upstairs  ground   the   from   backwards   walking  door   the  in  go
i

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

die to you want don't I

Arthur Edgar Donatien Wtewael Kalidasa Gongora Air France Solomon Rumi Eiseley Eno Maldoror Heredia XIV said...

This is the funniest comment in the history of comments. Thank you Anonymous.