stream of consciousness writing.

Hacksaws spinning, chainsaws grinding,

the handcuffs tightened and the whip cracked.

Blood reeking, nails splinter,

feel the burn, a candle sizzles.

Feel the weight, a sinister place and

a time to enjoy the pleasure.

What once was wrong now is joy and

so it comes a time to die.

 she screams but it's more like a laugh an echo wriggling sparkling stirring the space in front of her into a writhing mess like a cloud of bees filling her ears and pressing suffocating with noise-energy ohsweetlovelyemptiness, the ground is alone and alivealivealive. she bites her lip it feels like peeling paint from a door. her sky is sharp and s(t)inging.sheinhales,exhales    breath      breath       and lung-air freezes and falls to the ground shatters crystalline. the trees dissolve blackandwhite rapid-fire monochrome spinning liquefy something evaporates and then. nothing buteverything

heavy drums, barely audible squeaking, horns horns

my heart, my hands
--my fucking sluggish tongue my
leg propped veins up pulsating, upholster center point forehead throb heart throb expanding hangnails branch root beat beat beat. saliva salvia sativa vaginal walls starch amphibious stark holster

i left north for water

I watched in terrifed awe as his face exploded, splattering me with blood, tissues, chunks of bone and brain. The bullet had met its mark. I dropped the revolver, to flee. Fleeing as fast as I could, despite the shackles chaining my ankles together, giving me only about sixteen inches of slack. 

I ran, tripping and falling, getting up, tripping again, getting up, over and over. Voices all around me, adrenaline pumping through me, tears pouring down my face - God, help me I am so scared.

The ground outside with its rough streets rip the soles of my feet apart - I have no shoes, nothing at all, I am naked. The cool night bites my skin, every square inch of me. 

The chain makes noise...they know how to get me, they can hear me, my kidnappers, those who tortured me, confined me, beat me, raped me in the vagina situated just below my penis. They loved torturing their hermaphrodite prisoner and chased vigilantly to get him back.

Dodging through streets, alleys, jumping across curbs and ducking into doorways, I struggled to keep them at bay, struggled harder still to lose them. 

I hear their shouts. The pounding of my own heart is louder - surely they can hear it, even louder than the chain around my ankles?? The blood courses through my veins, deafening in my ears.

Their voices and taunts sound so close...out of desperation I jump into the possible safety of a dumpster. I find it ironic that a dumpster once nearly killed me and now one may save me.

Voices, shouts, yells, desperate cries...where is our prisoner?? They are searching hard for me, I hear their fury right outside my dumpster. I dare not even breathe.

The night wears on. When my blood slows down and my heart quiets, so does the night. No voices. No shouts. No yells. No one searching. Could be a trap.

I dare not even move. I wait, hiding. I hide for days it feels like, too scared to move.

I hide still.

Torn twisted forgotten and lied to for simpler reasons than exist in heaven and hell come from the dark and wimper demands like aging blue-haired vixons left on the bus that always makes a left turn in front of me on wednesdays and tuesdays I feel full with the day's special to everyone yet no one truly appreciates anything when they have plenty of bad luck does not exist for we all live in our own karma and fairytales told to children surrender their will when they age.

stampeded simply impeded inequalities save rushdie don't rush i am not afraid of death the truth is, not afraid the truth is not afraid, the truth is not afraid i can whittle this down to the simple notion of fuck you i cannot elaborate unfortunately for these words reserve the space between my cheeks groov-ed epidermis roof house mouth clashing teeth above my tongue spongy flesh underskin undertow you are beautiful, boy man, you are just goddamned beautiful red red red wine yugoslavia cha cha ching hands enfold unfold your kinky underbite foreign biopsy for a possible cyst my breasts now my heart my veins my my you are beautiful thick

Separated by distance but pulling near as the yarn winds, sewing a blanket like the blanket of stars overhead. seeing the stars glimmer not as gold, something more to cross that fragile line that separates the madness from the peaceful sanity of truth. But what if one leads to its opposite if by such one condones the other, in a spiderweb so delicate the droplets run and run like the players in the field of a marathon push for the finish but never arrive, pummeling through their place in space, forever.

struggling like a fly caught in such a web fighting tangles but just climbing higher in the tree to escape from the perils of the ground but it doesn't, can't, ever work as the birds circle fasterfasterfaster as climbing gets higherhigherhigher. Don't look down and can't look back because there's nothing there; all direction is gone it can't exist like in a void where up is not and down is there, trapped in void struggling to pull in the air to breathe but it won't come, fighting for the breath of everyday and stuck in the middle of the fight, forever.

laquered fish lack organs, swim in place,
fins stiff, against
the current that is that passage of time, that is,
deterioration. entropy. rot and rust.
der roter Rost
rested
after 150 years submerged
in constant motion
piscine epistemology constructed
slowly, quotidian, via
bulging, expressionless eyes
now glassy with death,
now: glass, to conceal
the cotton batting bursting from beneath
slick scales homogenizes sweetmeats into
a single diaphaneous organ
of felted filaments
bloodlessly white:
swelling to fill the cavity,
ochering with age.
jaws gape, grotesque,
as if stretching to envelope
its final annelidan repast.

it gathers dust.

less alone far away, cat calls, cat calling.  too late.fall away says the cat time is fiction time is fiction  planning is boxing you know i don't like boxes.  I don't box myself i never expected you to box me.  never expected rearranged thoughts of you. one day maybe a box not today not soon.  boxophobic you say nay i say, nay just a slight of claustrophobia.  get your words right and it'll be easier to communicate.  but i know that you know that.  sound of settling but settling for what?  settling for a box is what we're all doing.  college, university, classes desks, jobs careers.  all boxes, imaginary or not.  i may be an anarchist, but not always.  i like to listen to my cat.  i bet my cat is ok without a box.  and here i sit.  at my job, in a box.  box without a top.  closed box?  empty box?  she's got it right, though too simple.  this world needs complication. jazz it up.

from a little tidbit of spam i received in my inbox this morning, enjoy!:

Nothing seems expensive on credit
A faithful friend is a medicine for life.When yuh buy ah dutty calico 
yuh gat fuh wear am till it tear.

Hear me now therefore, O ye children, and depart not from the words of 
my mouth. He That Brings Good News Knocks HardLil boy nah climb ladder 
to turn big man.