The loop, the trap

I believe in the loop, the trap
of molten doors into the un-present.
I believe in the atrocities
of myself and the species;
unceasing rivers flow into me.
I believe in bursting, curling
problems that press me sweetly,
not seeking solutions in astral cities.
I believe only in the imperfect hurt
of bondings botched in the heat-
no quotation can corner it,
no script can cure it.

I sense the golden spreading
of time's tiles that pave sunsets
and all life and all time all together.
I am a killer, like father,
like sister, coldly making mince
out of patient minutes.

Dear Diary,

painlove peacelove eatlove washlove showerscrub facepeace movepain washpeace eatlove sitdream peacelove painlove movepeace painsleep eatpeace washlove dreampeace sitscrub painlove lovepain sleepdream.

Faced the dread too soon this morning, now it's all this.  The signals are all crossed, bickering beak finches fill the yawning cracks in my siding.  Good lord may I come again out of hiding.  Greenblue grass good day pretty.

I must have done something wrong or the bad thing would not be hanging around me.  I must not be seeing myself clearly.  Explanatory efforts kill the dreamy thing slowly.  Life leaks a bit at these unseen seams.  Dear me.  I accept this pasta in the name of whatever is holy me.

Our little stomachs burn for something expecting but gone missing.  Where did I leave me?  How can it be?  Have I spilled scribbling the illegible notary?  Full of dribbling vinegar again sadly scheming of nothing.  Last I looked, I was full to brim of perfect being… now nothing but a mist and a stinging, a longing for something gone missing.

sometimes i stumble upon these

legs long for learning

eye and eye in the skypewriter

basically remixing our better wares

it's transhuman erotic flagellation

substantiation vis a vis nec-romance

subscribe to my line of thought

I will now direct the mind's traffic

towards goals untended by cast nets