the withered testicles of yesterday’s lovers. the bloody sheets. the temperature. the throwing up. the boxes of leaves. the shifty house-keeper. the ticklish salesman. the lobster claw. the lips of lightning. the smiling widow. the temporary separation. the lost item in the mail. the rain coat. the diaphragm. the air we breathe. the small intakes. the fiery hands. the licking tongues. the tongs. the billowing bong smoke. the back legs. the rear end. the high point. the love. the lifetime of emptiness. the tornado. the house key. the car key. the mix up. the lost doorway in the ground. the flaming sword. the seraphim. the cherubim. the groundskeepers. the gate keepers. the guardians. the home wreckers. the fist in the air. the north star. the love & hate filling us up. the way we look at each other. the fingers down underwear. the triplicating time signature. the saturnine moisture. the millipede. the centimeter. the flexibility. the time off. the maternity leave. the anger. the ice cream. the pacifism. the feeling of complete withdrawal. the abandoned baby. the orphaned child. the wax statue. the melting. the burned hand. the tortured robot. the tiny fetus. the virgin of guadalupe. the descending hands of love. the hands sent to throttle me in my sleep. the timing of the arrow that shot me through the liver. the life blood. the dripping. the dragging. the dropping. the hoping. the hopping. the rabbit. the ex-lover. the amusement park. the talking ponies. the man in the tall hat. the women leading us across the desert. the fire storm that followed. the terror of eternity. the way you looked at me in the starlight. i became filled with exquisite terror at the possibility of you falling in love with me. It was a sweet hot shimmy from my brain down to my feet. I nearly choked on the sand that whipped up and slapped my face. Forcing me back into wakefulness. You dropped your handkerchief. It blew away as I ran back for it. You told me to stop and I just kep running after it. All across the great sandbowl we were trapped in. Until tiring. At which point I fell. You don’t remember? You stood there watching it all. Laughing at me. Twinkling in irony. You couldn’t have been less moved or more removed. You stood your ground. I shot past the sky. Into the raging blue night behind the firmament. Penetration into the mysteries. But not of course your mysteries. And then I fell back down. The stainless steel revolver. The tuxedo only worn once. The gun hidden in a coat sleeve. The slow walk across the ballroom. The sliding down. The hand gripping. The echo ringing out twice before her body even hit the ground. Her red dress sparkled in recognition as the blood soaked through it. The tiny teeth. The miniature men. The laughing from the corners of the room. It’s gone when I turn my head. The timing of a tornado. To hit when there’s nobody at home. The way a king lowers his head, without his crown falling off. The repentance. The eternal undying love of a dead man. The love goes on and on. The dreams fill me up. The time of mourning. There’s no time like the present. So don’t waste it spending blood. There’s nothing. The great big nothing. The very small nothing. The thing so small it wasn’t even there. The way I loved you. The way I didn’t love you. The way both were the same thing. The way nothing changes and the way everything is in ruins. Beautiful sweet ruins. I am coming to you, swimming across the ruins of a civilization which I never cared about. I never read their history books and I know nothing of their culture, language or religions. And in their ashes I will plant the crops of our becoming. The love you carry inside you. We will plant it here and from us a new Tree of Jesse will spring. We are the new generation of hope, love and happiness. From these wars will we conquer death. From these deaths shall we reap our harvest. In time. In time. The turning of the screw. Of the spear. The spearhead soaked in semen. The semen soaked in disbelief. The waxy residue left by our soul sex. The slippery sheets of our last fuck before bleeding to death. the tires. The fucking tires. All the tires fell off on our car, and we were so lost. So tired, so broken. Would no one help us? Does none know of our trials? Even though we broadcast them. Robot Radio. Our final broadcast. The secret love of David for the Lord. The way I held your hand as you lost your virginity to my brother. The feast of the night’s eyes upon you. The sharpening of our souls for the final showdown. You whittled yours upon the wheel of logic. I upon the sands of sprinkling time. Toast. The mirror of our longing river. Fuck all this sand, fuck. The ice spin dancing on our lost frozen rivers of piss. The ass crack of humanity. The visible loss. The hole he left in you. I can’t fill it. And I’m anything but interested. The way my fingers type out your love song upon your skin. The tiny tinkling tackling crackling. Back rack smacking. Busty metaphors standing still between us. You were buxom and brave and dead. And I was a lion carved from the flesh of slaves and beaver dams. And beavers dammed up the way to the lord. The milky white way up to heaven. Where our love grows from the soil of our semen. Lost, spilled. Pulled out of us in the midst of our dreaming. If infinity cried, it would rain down on us like spikes of light. Tiny. Baffling. Clinical. The way to Eden. The way I touched you and then threw up in the park minutes after. He said you were so pretty. I kept throwing up. You always make me throw up. Look, I’m throwing up right now. Oh, how pleasant it is. I could die. I could spill my guts into my lap and then watch you lap them up. Or else feed them to your dog. What am I doing? Where am I? and Where in living fucking bloody hell have you gotten off to this time? The whorehouse? Where you belong. The convent? Where you came from. Go back to one or the other and leave me be to my pieces and puzzles. My great puzzling adventure. My downtime of death watching. My fire-fucking with wrists pinned against the sky. I could fuck you like that too. Tattooed. Someday I wil. I will be the end of the world. The tremors of recognition. The tablecloth of our undoing. It was quite a frenzy of angels. Fighting over the last bits our souls and scraps which we sold. And now wore as head gear. Replete with envy. Thick with shark teeth. You hat of wolves’ blood. With a rim carved of oak. And a walking staff to match. Your stride bent towards this new third leg. You took me up. You punished me. I would have it no other way. The fastening hasps. The undoing locks. The boldness of your neighbor. She was only joking. The jokes neighbors tell in secret utter earnestness. The unbecoming glance at your girlfriend. The way she grabbed her breasts at me. The time she tipped over and I saw everything. I sent myself up that sweet white dress. You were in the back room, wiggling in front of the mirror like a dead fish. An aphrodisiac, you thought. That’s all I will need. She’ll take no other approach but being fooled. So thought you. You never even tried to touch her pussy in the porchlight, and bite her neck in the backyard. You idiot. What were you waiting for. I was there, prodding and probing and unleashing my inner demons on her stomach. And you were digging holes in the outhouse. And challening yourself to fill these too with shit. White rabbit shit. White breasts flashing in the night, like teeth at a drive-in. She handed me her ass on a platter. And I received it. Willingly. Knowingly. And you drove us home without noticing. You’re a first class piece of shit and I love you for it. The cock swollen with blood. The down jacket I wrapped you up in after fucking out in the cold. The last tangent of sanity. Before I rocketed off out into the unknown. It didn’t matter. We didn’t matter. The universe still went on without us. The wet wilderness lowing softly in the background. The wildebeest. The cows all herding close by. The shepherds grazing their flocks. They saw it coming. The fireball in the sky. The invincible hand of the demi-urge, floating down to destroy us all. Let’s save ourselves by fucking. You and me. Right here. We’ll jump on the backs of the Hale-Bopp comet and ride off to the planet Xenon. I have people there. They will help us. Let’s go, she whispered. And we whipped off our clothes and disappeared into the night. We found ourselves sometime later in the middle of a busy street. Somewhere on fifth avenue perhaps. Leaping from building to building. Clinging to the sides. In envy of Spiderman and other masked men with animal attributes. We touched each other’s genitals, as a sign of recognition. Of belonging. We shall mate here on the rooftops and rafters and spread our seed across the heavens. The planet has bound us together and to her. And all we can do is to fuck and fuck. And die and grow up into the sky. Where we’ll fall down like rain. I love you. You slay me. I need you. You flay me. I die like a last frame stolen from a movie projector. Everything gets dark and everyone walks out of the theater, their pants all stained with cum.