not many threads left in this rope

My body is an Alien form.

screaming from too many
            places,
 
I can't smother them all.

gimme an epidural to the
        brain stem,

gimme a lidocaine
         bath.
the Resolve is wearing thin.

Anger is getting
        
Sour.

DIRECT ACTION

the handle vibrates
in high frequency
 
              the EYEs are
              half her face

tip buried half an inch
firm in the wood

             mouth the other half
             I can see her rotten molars.

That's right ma'am.
Fill up
            I don't want to redecorate you.

running out of ways to run

base to salt
...citric

aqueous solution all the solution

staying strong, what a fucking joke.


with a bit of luck
         and
material fatigue

this could be my LAST.

ABORT, ABORT!!

right....

embalming fluid embargoed, what now?

two months down
flushed pipelines

relevant sources vague.
my experience clear.

    nowhere near the paradigm shift.
 

in the words of a man
   far better than me:
"can't figure out who is coning who, and why!"

spot on my dear ST

spot on.

the acute done.
post acute close to nothing,
considering who i am and where i came from.

so,
feels pretty much the same.

too old, too seasoned for psychosomatic bullshit.

feels pretty much the same.
        maybe someone fucked up my tests,
hepatitis could account for at least some of the symptoms.
        too bad i ain't a hypochondriac.

running on obligations ( scarce)
               scruples (scarcer)

I still feel sick all the time.

full of shit to the lid, who cares where it came from

gave myself 2 years.
after that

i will make an example out of myself

and the lot of you.

hope it won't come to that.

hepatic metabolism not yet near normal

it's in the shape 

behind my eyelids,

it's in the shape

of white noise

of meditation.

the path.

martyrdom.

disgrace.

" all pigs must die"

......

you are with me everywhere
you sit within me
with hands full of knives
and this cup of coffee is getting cold
    i want to kill us

every god damn night it is the same
serrated pillows
broken glass textures
    i want to kill us

HOW TO DIVORCE EVERY FUCKING THING

junk is all i kept.

The things that separate me from the dreams of yesterday.

Savage ruthless cut
no sterility in mind.

Leaving wounds that fester and rot.
    I rub it in.
Every waking hour inflammation progresses.

    Nurse,
    we'll have to amputate that

    unattended,
    god forbid,
    it might get better.
Fire purifies all.

room with wooden floors

pile the bodies in the western corner
i need the eastern wall free,
sit in the lotus,
in the rectangle of light
    reading,reading
    cobwebs   
    DUST
through this dirty pane
the world is looking smeared
    second rate impressionist
mass produced dream

Gigers Dreamscapes on the northern wall
cheap printed trivial fantasies
covering mold, penicillin.

Gray.
Black.

hairy whitish thing, so delicate to fingers
just like the curtain on the southern doors.
a mothers touch of laced white
over my tinny window.
    Not so white anymore.
outside this dirty pane
particles of  premature spring
gliding down my rectangle of light.
Landing on the pages i so desperately read.

the rattle that never goes away

I
 carry my death around in my pocket
    we are familiar,
i wear my lies on my face at all times
    we are familiar.
I
am
so stupid
when trying my hardest,

it never fails to amaze

receptors
worn down,
tear ducts
dried out

never fails to amaze.

    my death rattles in my pocket,
    it's a little game we have.
    unleash a bit of disaster down my bloodstream
    i want to feel that stiffening take hold

...

i just spin and spin in this stressful space,


dimensionLESS,

claustrophobic,

godFORSAKEN

place,
in my head 

i am fucked in my mind.

               however,


today, additives are falling into place,

amalgams for my panicking gaps,

             narcoticized


i'll bury the day,

in my head

i am fucked in my mind.

    than, in mornings, it's tunneled vision again
    my screen is there, awaiting me.

hOme

stranded,
more frequently i forget to breathe.
 
               
        they say that's treatable.


empty homes along the road,Mud and Dogs and
 Filthy Snow.


stranded.

desperation gone routine.
                
        they say that's treatable.



boarded windows.


lives now artefacts.

Night and Owls.



stranded.

P.A.W.S. or beginning from scratch for the n-th time and quite possibly too late

 opportunities

opportunities 

what the fuck am I doing?
                     why
                     why
                     why
is this pull so strong,

I don't want prosthetics.

                a plan
                a plan
sorry,
      spinal HRC too high
to take the strain.

             no plan
             no plan.

           ageing 30+ years
           every day
           what the fuck am I doing
           still moving this mess of molecules around
           way past expiry date.

W.D. or mandatory fuckup of all i was

First of  all

I am not a christian.
hence, I don't believe in hell.


        Hell.
" after initial excruciation,
   it'll get better
     with every
        passing
            day"

Well,
        fuck you Manual
        it is not.

cycling whatever benzos

they aren't cutting through.


      Hell.

why believe?
I don't believe in gravity, neither.

I am living it through and with.

      counting days 
      against my veins.

can't help it.

CAUSALITY

I was growing tumors

        merely cosmetic,
 
fuck the social skills
and bloodshot eyes.

writing on skin
        &
piercing nipples with safety pins.

Just for the sake of distinguishing from the Clean.

              
          I  still wear the same suit
             still nurture the same rage.

it's just....

        the point of aim has shifted.

parallax error?
conscious decision?

too  early to say.

won't fit?
can't  fit?

        than Hammer it in.

Broken?

should have known better.

I leave the pieces behind.

it is Tao.

trying not to look back.

it is Tao.

.

...and I thought that i was getting pretty good at being alone

be it Smack, Opium, Morphine
or plain Old Time,

I am a different being now.
       Synergy maybe?

pointless to think in terms
of Right  and  Wrong;

Exhaustion alone was enough
to Cure me of that.
Climbing up from zeromovement 

            temperatures 

took All I had in me.

           torment.
and than it dawns on you;

how miserable it is 

to be without

to be without

a human Being
Capable of Laughing for you.

not to mention fuck
and wake up late, so you can

watch her while she Sleeps.

n 02 a

you fucked up all that i could be.
Truth be told you'd never succeed 
          
        without

my wholehearted help.

How I loved your touch within my
           
         Gut.

How  I  dream of you entering

         Me.

Can't hate you yet. 

you fucked up a love that was fake.
So i guess that's a good thing.

you fucked up every talent
that i was ever 
Passionate about.
        and quite a few there were.

With My Wholehearted Help.

that's how it works.

it's Love.
and
it
killed
me.

LE ✦ PENDU

Now it's within me

now it's me.

Allways was, but now it's official.
                But,

Now it's official.

I know what it means,
I don't know whether
            
             I  like it or not.

Can't be   Duchamp
Can't be   Tzara
Can't be   Vranjkovic
Can't  even be 
          William Seward.

whether i get there or not
now i am
the hanged man.

4 - (2 aminoethyl) benzene -1, 2- diol shortage

1. it is cold

2. it is fucking cold

3. RLS

4. phantom pains all over

5. fuck you for reading, and not getting it

6. snowfall

7. north wind shattered glass

8. obligations outreaching capacity

9. it is even more cold

10. i hate my job

11. i hate what I'm about to do 

12. insomnia ( should've been higher, but i forgot)

13. RLS

14. why do i fucking bother 

15. scarred