violent night

o)
mind shatters / surface breaks and flows / imaginary interior flowing out / universal posterior engaged in doubt, accountability, reason / the impenetrable become loss itself! / the dips, curvature, corners, molecules, / arrested, placed in stasis, suspended, static movement / grasped by a certain void / held tightly by its consequential twin / its secondary condition immortalized / controlling the trajectory / the dead become cellular and form networks / whisper little nothings from the coordinates of death and birth / strategic interior reversal and unfathomable dialogues / ineffable word cells (vowels, consonants, or ejectives) / surface folded in fractions / inside, boiling and freezing / body withstanding agency / spatial folding outward / curves back into itself / rapid level of agency / cooling and boiling in segments / pierced by arrows flung from him / love annexed / ambivalence given to bodies as new agency / surface disrupted / pierced once more / interior organs of the path swelling / tubes bellowing / swelling path whether continuous or dead contingent / cannot be recorded / cannot be revised or reimpaired / cannot ever be felt again / cannot be sensed with the hands / cannot be exchanged / two hundred and fifty million individual dots scintillating across the backdoor of the milky way through an invert transform of the west, the orient and occident / cannot be skewered or titled / cannot be categorized / cannot give itself the privilege of sitting outside of a box / love impaired / fathomable / history ability only to be read / only to be scoured / only to source itself / unbroken depiction of mind shattering / universal constant structured to achieve agency imbalance / end call / reversal of preexisting event / dispensing of intellectual liquid / no more sequential / the plastic universe / plasticity distorted / dispense of agency / freedom from burden of cause / penetrating affect of tone of voice of love of constant / why can't you hear me / death stereotype submerged and anticipated renewal / undifferentiated and indiscernable from birth / myth of consciousness / give rise / give belief / blown through frost / blown through heat / redepict and unearth / baptized and denominated meat / blooddrops extracoruscating / inability to receive or demand other chance corner or operation or distillation of exchange / if / whether the chance of five thousand objects / already / already having had a chance at it / fix focus on Earth / weary subject source worn down wear from everything / evoke out / no more / residue of language already disretrieved / paired with sockets / separated from the familial / constellation structured: / two figures copolliating / death insurgicated / reinstrumected / single source of dyserasunctal / narrowing in on source / birth a consequence of eratesalation / rupturing / healing / circulating killing of surfaces / foundation of power / life / flesh / triumph / chasm filled with light.
 
i)
those clandestine oscillations between a life and death compared
towards pulverize the life from my system and head that death so bare
will make me toss turn click soon scratch my veins and let the blood rush loud
beneath sheets i strangle the police in my enclave mushroom cloud (i)
burn clip tear rash ache to-twelve o-nine fragment speech cell overwhelmed
the lights switch on i peers at the seers (ii)
who think me cunt and befelled
peak slit en'treat al'zet meandær-Systematik ring the bells (i)
a victory of three dead lovers self-unsubmerged in art wells
that art compels that words derive that agency that's mine not mine (ii)
pull from the strings envelop mine rip me apart until sex sign
says signs encapsulate the dead prevent no'milk corpse chime lie (i)
sever the family run free the fittinest art is free belief
is free economy and dope is swarming with free anecdotes (iii)
mahonei a shrine that drags the rain and drizzles the nights unwrote
(dragging spearmint)
totality of war-fun-love-hate shattered by nodes from our networks (i)
plucking stem cells and nerve vains from surface of gods unreigned
undøne b'göne more ever ever than the of capital with their
shower of purple blood on gauze reset the agents of the laws
those laws crush heart tantalize art to fate of word killed by the whores (?)
because the night kills all by night and night is Nächt except when sexed
that dress of grace his fall from mace play words throw reign beast lace unrex
six thousand and six angels light up houses of the dark sink wept
save a body that i call me i am not me i am me next
constraint of words is my metastasis, i lie down dreaming blood
(optimistic, that popped New-Year-balloon gagging the human)
the sea lit up by death inside explodes the violent night beside
tidepools of millennial guilt (avi)
slash between happy sad angry
turn human fodder to rags
brain weaved to perfection adult sags
(— that you and me, you and me)

ii)
to fall aside to Qamm aride
that loss love to Qamm were fucked dead staggered aside
(STOP EVERYTHING) two in voice toward triumph:
"this is the death of free verse
— we have unset the hearse we have — why! — reset history
belief is; in a word; resting me, is always resting me sleep,"
mankind triumphs over itself, (which i don't)
consuming and absorbing the weight of itself
(meanwhile) soft iPhones in lines oscillating the weight of five worlds
that had been burdened aligned by heat toned blue hurled (isn't)
(laid on) concrete and burnin
my teenage is turnin my free range unlearnin
a wide range of kerning that had left once had known (that)
sweet residue of dead language
snores become fragrant
noise in arrangements (If you're Reading this i)
will not save working pageants of workers working payments
doom-lay'd world, that pavement so cold working in paradement
that esque of celebrations to dig up constellations
of distractions of citations telling truths; future relations,
no mystic correlation between dual bi-relations, formed
by states of states of int'locking sidereal bureau-pavements
where men and women meet to lock coitus in dead patience
iwillsitinthemiddleof passingtrafficforthispoemtomakesense
to structurr - to structure everything - to structurr two hundread and fifty
deathturn nodes in networks assigned to oscillations
bleakturn'rd holeturn'rd suck-in-breathe-owt project of loveelations in fate to
bleak turns hole turns sucking breathing projecting no relations
i write for Qamm, for Bliskit, neither mine am,
i work with logistics to see Qamm the young lamb
laid down in rainbow dust with Bliskit in the sand
i dream i do i dream i dream i can't lend me a hand
i dream of them my gods i love to hate now who i am
now i am not mine i make my own derive from hands
(deserve dream world gossamer beneath the sand of time that's y)
read hands retrieve and hands believe no longer who i am
discard retrieve pull push out in force glued thousand believe
versus myself in time and space i dream a better me
i feel a grander me with a hole blown through
and the wind leaks through so the sun can leak through too
((song for the nether eye)) — oh i
(he-she dreams a better i)
empty the basket
 
iii)
i fantasize of locking, loading, and shooting already fantastical dead wives 
of memory for looting; creases and tears on the surface level
made by my mind's serpent, bezeled in thick iron, drivel in a hassel
to the subject of memory stung by death rattle,
i hope nameless myself before i'm caught laid among the cattle
exit wounds — black holes — sucking in emotion
stagnated motion, pauses, machine toward erosion
flesh radiated by a furnace; paint stripper gaseous, vinegary listless scents
surrounded by a lamp-light, that peering sick eye, highlight cell pooled in ants, 
chloroform lake, that grey lice cry, that microscopic insect, 
hands encased in mud; eyes split and stratified, my nation petrified
i am the consequence of memory multiplied, split history, turned calcified,
embosses and imprints, stains and traces, gut memory out and erase all faces
and erase me before i make deceased wealth
(et-tu-strategy)
and erase responsibility, erase myself, eclipse all of us in that tall glass
thank God i'll never ask those wünderblocks, stackblocks,
rearrangement of genitalia; radius of eschaton cock
serpent twirling, tangling, gingeleine gagging, tarpaulin blowing,
fucked in custody, cooked in church, threaded and ambered
in the metropolit police state,
arms crossed, love ambivalent, neck wounded, diced head,
words knocked, trust luminescent, neck shrouded, living and dead,
reattribute and separate
your carcass from the electorate
 
v)
folding a sacrificial voice
counterance of the north
who will hear it in the sweet Nächt?
depth made through solid mass, crushed heads under rocks
who will hear them in the sweet Nächt?
flames lap up stones tone mind to atonement
the Guignol-central fountain
with its corpsal mounting
descends from the sideway
and wakes severed heads, be it may.
flesh forming from air emasculated in sour dirt
who is going to hear them in the sweet nächt?
identity; agency; mankind spreads solemn 
against the waters that corrode the soul
i will dive in and find them
i have found the device for them
waters Anti of a record surface flesh and thought to an eclipse
that dark energy surging through body mine. three signs of wrath,
innumerable signs divided in halves; winter and summer were so cruel
a libido punctured in sharp, sweet, hollow, massified strategy
(who is going to look as anything
in the sweet Nächt?)
Qamm the young lamb; Bliskit the telling hand
throw bodies in lines that draw backward in the sand
not my own or my kind, break the familial aligned
cut the sisters' legs off
leave everyone behind
reduce it all to nothing then inclined
cleave love so quickly decline that love til declined
forget and die quietly so as to never ever remind
and pause for major belief inside
until the lights die and memory unassigned
and she won't will come back and has alrraeady said:

"all your words evaporated after you spoke
and i could only remember their touch because, yes
i was unsatisfied, but not to the point where i could just
throw you out of my life and find a new toy, see,
i certainly had seen past that — and then when i knew i was othered
from an operative for sex who could only talk to me through the past
i had some kind of necessary epiphany that would just
finally make me conform to real good will, it was the trigger
that broke off of the gun that had concepts for bullets in its barrel.
so when i knew i could never flesh out that desire, abject addiction
and make it the word, that in spite of white ego could be godless,
if i really took my heart out,
i knew then i could use your memory to kill it
i could never say, to regain power,
that we were only just wheels in a big, dumb, filthy system
(that it was systemic, because i was part of a deal
declared as part of a financial killing spree, 
or a massacre of ideals that i was apolitical on occurrence of
girl not consenting: no refunds? but i want to be refunded.)
had every number in the book
and she stopped calling anyone at all
when she found out none of them could help
i quote — "for what? fuck it" — no quote, then, had
such a limit over her language, and pulled a shadow down
as much as, i quote — "not gonna make it past"
which i saw in myself fixed on not age but ability
free will went out the window when she stopped
and the stop she made was not a full stop.
yet i could not grief and sit my ass on it like death
as much as it was her move, to disappear right into nothingness, 
not a distinct and obvious and clear and very very obvious void
as i had already known a few trembling ones prior
they had it all before i tried my hand at it
gambling with language, freedom, art in purgatory
later i was a charlatan, a nulled out fraud, a swindler
yet, luck in baselessness, becoming my roots, questionably,
i had enough of a plan in fragments that i could unravel it
all across the internet while my mouth said the world
but now i doubt this world and a hunger fills me
asking an innocence in me: who will save the world?
i loved that i was able to pull myself back into this familiar mist
the one all these scholars and historians can never capture
only the millennials can. these burnouts who are close to sellouts,
but they know what's right and they know how much age costs
waiting for an inevitable end which isn't justified at all, at least
according to their conscience, and most importantly, as it was
delivered to be as much of a motivation as possible to me
by a friend, because without question the friend counts your blessings for you
the conscience of "i", withstanding the fate of the ego
which didn't sound any less more fucking stupid than before
but no, in the third person, she was patiently waiting —
for what? fuck it — not gonna make it past
and just like that, she inevitably disappeared, her art going down too
her words evaporated after she spoke, she is eliminating "i"
i am pulling myself towards her, i am her — forming a human monument
"don't you feel it? oh, i know you can, you have empathy, don't you?"
and it grabbed itself and fell further down, through the neon-lit spectacle guarded
by recording mediums, the vinyl record, the cassette tape, the cd, boiling back down 
to crude oils, rotting fruit turned to gold by midas, the figure with the longest sheath
its heart shaped crudely, professionally making mistakes, 
your expertise, the failure, it failed when "i" fell, 
"i?" doubting its death. having a moment.
the ego rung out and it sounded pretentious."

i slammed the door on myself.
i talk to Elohim with the snap of my neck
that slams its head against a wall, its system beautiful wreck,
its clean teeth clenching testicles torn eyeyd and bloody'd
and become eyes and see future head and relapse inject receive
five thousand psychiatrix i die young and pop out my tongue
and i'm still here then i am wrong
and the rain pours and i'm still not gone
avoid of crystalline memory
obstruct you from hurt
i maul history and wear it
a fine skirt
— glared at, blaring that —
surrounded by 
those illusory gut fucking
cock sucking
narcissistic tech people

vvv)
an attempt 
at a silence of all silences

while we count them, the hours refuse to speak to us
they hate all of us and they hate me too;
i loathe and spew out all of us; 
smoke spewing out of a list 
fine pristine mint machines on the shore
December 32nd curtains torn

i am time

you 
will 
vomit 
when you 
think 
of 
me
 
1855
1972
1999
2000
2023
2046
 
{ { { } }}}]]]

shut the fuck up and leave me alone i'm fucking tired of talking to you and having to think about you you won't leave my fucking head goodbye