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Millennia
Known

2.77
 1
 
 
At the end of the longest rope in any of the universi is not a dead mouse in a mouse trap in a noose, but a red thread, 1 inch long, tied in a clove hitch around a piece of papyrus upon which these words are written—unlike a sacred text, these words are meaningless to those who scrounge for meaning in the trenches of the first galactic war, carved out in the stardust like an ancient fiction of science; clever, but dumb—numb to your advances the advantage is mine and mine alone, so don’t let me get in my ozone cone—bones scrape 1 grain ata time on 2001 grit sandpapyrus—curiously, the bic pen empties its contents like spilled oil in a gulf of guts—you don’t have anything on me so I’ll ask again, and again, and again an again an begin anew too true—fake news of Jews—burn out brightly frighteningly—I found a human dead in the case not of beer but of a super computer used to generate these beats—womp womp and bitch about the bass on the hook—you’re a crook and I knew it from the beginning—I’d kick your teeth in if in death I had legs to kick the door in figuratively and expose the silver halide to your lie—tromp tromp—gather compulsions and hit send like you know what you are—doing—do so as if you have a clue—do so as if you brought your balls Conor—I’ve never been wronger wearing Wranglers washed into threads that then red shift off the cleft of your pallet of cares—stare—are you aware awareness impedes awareness aware you are—just exile me already—so, so tired of your advantageous outrage—shut the fuck up by kicking the teeth in—gently place your violence on the crest of an apex predator—pray upon my sex—bend over me and kiss the lid of the coffin goodbye—gather your nails and begin to scratch down the bone and groan like an animal of consequence and rinse your bones in the light of the portal—let me leave this reality and enter the cavern of the singularity—let me launch you somewhere where even the stoned hills have eyes of their own—don’t let me get in the ‘zone—froth at the mouth so kicking in clown teeth won’t be so viciously vicarious—once the table is set and I’ve taken your bet, I will go back and edit this with the awareness that time can not and will not be edited which makes me a rainbow cod in the stream of your dream but willing and able to improve the projection of your advances—but never, ever tell me you love me again, in this life or this life will bite the bit that feels—kick the feels in—she deserves it—you are not deserving, you are serving my sentence on a silver halide plateau—raise your weapon and rape the sky like the Earth only grander and sandier—swing from the chandelier with a broken glass of champagne between your bittersweet teeth and become a pyrite pirate by broken stem in the starlight of your starfight—eat the last goldfish on a gold coin and chase it through the stream of Goldschläger with Tequila and Hennessy bitch. Switch. Gears turn over the years queerly—you shouldn’t be this way they say—you should sting like a ‘be’ as you struggle for breadth in the molasses in the well—rest in glorious fuckin’ peace—it means more to me than you’ve known—blast me from a cannon glowing through the canon and the net—let me explode and collapse—postin postulations from the coma like a g—with glee—in all seriousness, choose your weapon from the cache of the supercomputer—rip through the final shreds of my anxious heart and attack my kindnesses—battle—up to bat we got the heavy hitters comin up like wrinkly kids—thrown em in the drier freak—paint your face with the tattoos of others and scream—rush into the x without the knowledge of what’s true for someone else—otherwise, one night it will be wise to be the other—freshen up—butter cup—they’re a finite number of places to visit—they’re boring into the neutrons of my soul and falling through the hole—I was not the one to receive the gift of your battered heart following reentry—your renal function is on display, peacocking in the octagon—I take amphibians because I condone society—I kill fleas because I fled the scene—reference the unreferenced—better yet—shave your hawkish scalp—ruin me in the face of everything that’s come to light ligature—stifle, thud, megawatts—the sum of 3 sums is something somewhere to someone sometimes—pick up your ardor—ah, it’s all just practice after all isn’t it; refined learning—an education—like going to school to learn what pain is—like going to school to learn what gain is—schools of bass belong to us—god you gore me—I pirouette on the point of your horn in African—sexy is as sexy does sexy—smoothly finished like a happy meal at the bottom of a bottomless well—this is not the best way to remember you—this is how I mourn you—this is how I mouton your chops—this is how you left me—this is how you loved me—and this is how you had me: just beyond your grasp, some big mystery in the cosmos, unsure of my direction, caught in the net of consequence I inherited from my attachments, thieving the grandiose, prying gums from frigid fingers because there isn’t any need for them where we’re going we’ll need wings, so drink this red bull and make me flutter at the sight of your posterity as I proclaim ‘Great Scott!’ and reach 88 miles per hour and disappear into the wall of the tidal wave.
 2

3 Feb 19


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