only so much volume

said:

"how are you"
 ?

there.

again.

a long, rusted, thoroughly 
barbed
feeling.

tied into it
i can do little,
but shit myself.

dawn like fast tide drowning drenching everything light hurts underlining dirt

i actually watch
the paint dry.

often.
guess it could be made
meditative,
but,
i have enough of that
laying through the night,
hard tramadol comedowns,
06.20
push more in,
verge serotonin syndrome.
functional.
just.

morning sickness
&
morning suckness
&
morning detachment
of getting head,
halitosis
&
this must be what
fucked up moments of pregnancy feel like
or
the morning of the day
one takes a petn/tatp martyrdom
trip.

sucks ass.
 

"von zacher masoch was not a pervert but a crybaby pussy" or anesthetic nevertheless

make my mind
i can't
&
smother me
in engine oil.

here,
it is
bared
the nerves
&
tendons
muscle
all the bone under
subvert
make something out of it
remember to turn me
from side to side
from time to time
i dislike
the notion
of
decubitis.

hamstring.
crawl.
I'll flay me for you
so you don't have to puke.