Have I ever had a thought of you like you were already gone, (yes I think you’ve had a thought of me like I was already gone,) have you ever had a thought of me like I was already gone, (yes I think I’ve had a thought of you like you were already gone)… This must be love, this must be everything, this must be diners full of ancient children left to rot, this must be lily-wings, this must be kitchen cut that gave up put the pus to pot… Have I ever kissed a lake for you like I was already soot, (yes and I recall you rinsed the lake like it were apostolic foot), have you ever slept a train for me so I could stare at the rain, (yes and as it fell you felt a sweltering you couldn’t explain)... This must be love, this must be everything, this must be er taken from discover to make discov, this must be violet things, this must be rising loaves of blood-stained bread this must be love, this must be everything, and if in everything I, I know what must be--

Combinations are a lie but permutations are not… force of will will not apply I can’t be said to have thought… altar’s like a counter but they’re out of everything of which I take a shot… Satan can you help me when I’m down, satan can you help me when I’m down, satan can you help me when I’m down, down, down, maybe all the girls’ll include you now-- Hooray! When the pennywhistle zips hooray! When the pennywhistle strips then zips hooray! When the pennywhistle zip up my skin with the tingle of sin… And if a washed up saint wanders into town, gonna crucify that motherfucker upside-down, with an apple in his mouth and a cleaver in his chest, and an old tin sign says honored guest and-- Bleeeuuh! Hail plagiarism, fake a book about it bleeeuuh! Make the nipples sigh that they make milk ‘stead of that good snot, and if the tomb keeps me alive, my tomb it’s best that history forgot, and if I ever fuckin’ smile again, to all the believers it will look just like a frown… Satan can you help me when I’m down, satan can you help me when I’m down, satan can you help me when I’m down, down, down, I feel like a tourist in my town… Satan can you help me when I’m down, satan can you help me when I’m down, satan can you help me when I’m down, down, down, maybe all the girls’ll include you now-- Hooray! When the pennywhistle zips hooray! When the pennywhistle strips then zips hooray! When the pennywhistle zip up my skin with the tingle of sin…

Flakes, in the crepe chiffon entranceway, like paint peeling from sunbeams, and fluttering down in scraps… pools, in the small town vestibule, forming in an unkind foam, a grayscale scent of stew… I am the speaking of one you once loved, one who you prayed was relaxing above, but I’m not, I’m just a thought, I’m just a thought, I’m just a thought, and a hazy one at that… Stripes, in the kitchen made of light at night, that shutter like a camera’s capture, of a cry that’s dropped a cone… scrapes, from the nails escaped from backyard gate, that graze the skin like a callous breeze, does garage’s stale perfume… I am the speaking of one you once loved, one who you prayed was relaxing above, but I’m not, I’m just a thought, I’m just a thought, I’m just a thought, and a hazy one at that… I’m just a thought, I’m just a thought… I’m just a thought, I’m just a thought… and a hazy one at that…

I had regrets before I was born, I just superimpose them on my actions now and I was torn before I was torn, molded tight throat before I was shorn, whatever it is it don’t heal no more, music, bathroom doors, ain’t no positive spin on my myth, pitied by my lore… You gotta fight your own way into my fight, ain’t no way we’re on the same page, but I’ll fight my hardest into your fight, ‘cuz I know we’re both full of rage, and if you ask me to call when I get home safe, I promise I will not betray… Now porn watches me to get off, and I am not ashamed to be such a spectacle, bitter though you may scoff, I see in your eyes I am a trough, but I am far more similar to a receptacle, rich in nutrient broth, unborn birth’s bluff enters a geometric apical grave whose death will burn off… You gotta fight your own way into my fight, ain’t no way we’re on the same page, but I’ll fight my hardest into your fight, ‘cuz I know we’re both full of rage, and if you ask me to call when I get home safe, I promise I will not betray… I have friends now, in a way I didn’t have friends before, and I had friends before, in a way I don’t have friends no more, I don’t know, which type of friend you are, I’ve made it way too far, to stare all day at the rain, and get my notions parked…

I have never mourned for the dead, none of it has hit me yet, I speak by accident as if they’re still alive, delusion that’ll make a good friend cry, I feel as if I still could visit them, in living rooms or high school marching band, I tell you I don’t expect to get hit, and during hit still not expecting it, I don’t expect the pain to the extent that I don’t think my body bothers, and if I’ve had a child like I said I did I have already lost her, I’d let you nightly steal, and as violent as I feel, if you handed me a gun, I would be the only one to try and crawl inside and hide just like a mite, dust cannot return to dust for I am still just dust and I won’t see the light, do not look me in the eye unless you plan to swipe me aside, please don’t look into my chest unless you have the proper knife, please don’t dive into the night unless you’ve drowned and thrown your guide, please don’t nurture in the ground what you believe will reach the sky… I won’t say the name my lover cried into the light my sister ate out of the limbless dank my old friend said tonight, I will never get a ticket in my hometown, even when the lights are red, even when the lawns are dead, and they must have said in unison, we make love to the dead, but I only mourn the living, and that’s just the way it is, I am truly not invested in exhuming sticks from pith, I am truly very sleepy and undrowning on my bed, I am just a high-tide shackle of a girl that’s left unsaid.

Even when I lose my head, or wake up dead, the earth recedes so slow, even when I lose control, or know I know, the goal still holds its glow, so I pay my rent and say, another day… Even as I fade and fold, she is always in the works, makes me feel as though I’m changin’ my name, merely for a few choice perks, and to alleviate the cost of lovin’ myself, I must quick call all the bases, makes me feel like I’m a stranger to myself, even if that ain’t true… I beat that body but I guess I’ll give it one more breath, it fear-finds home within a worm within an inch of death, it takes up space the way a ghost has eyes, I guess I’ll survive if I refuse to survive, it upends the crawl from every growth stage, gotta born rage, makes it hard to breathe before I breathe… Lemme stay downstairs I needa have one more drink, I needa get thoughtless enough so I can think, the cupboard splays its open range, widened like a cage it’s flayed, I close it up, froth-bottle cup, makes the distance safe enough, in sight I’ll stay…

Painted this stroke, it meted out the road, had to recall, this thing while driving home, bless the repeat, while testing out the note, then farmland exploded and faded in turn, the waitresses folded therein where it burned, they posted where the lightning stuck out, here lies the vibrant strut out, a place where all things can re-- turn and become, well-thought and happy too, I gave it a go but the sky was low so I passed the chance to you, fair enough I woulda thought, you’ve way too much to do, your eyes became swollen when you touched the beam, saw my companion go up into steam, I’ll never know what memory means now, ‘cuz no old memory’s seen how, a new friend goes before we meet…

The ladies’ room has real good cushions here, there’s always this same waitress when I’m here, I tip her when the skulking dust draws near, I ask her take a tidbit if you can, to force this mug as full’s it was back then, she interjects consulting me again-- But can you make god real, lil’ baby, but can you make god fuckin’ real, I’ve got this note, to, pass to you says you are gonna fuckin’ go to hell if you can’t make god real… The benthic lamplight ushers ponds to sink, to their own recesses as if to think, about hot ice skates guts a frozen rink, I walk ‘long 27 in the night, I give the wave before I slip from sight, the ground gets closer, softer and more tight-- But can you make god real, lil’ baby, but can you make god fuckin’ real, I’ve got this note, to, pass to you says you are gonna fuckin’ go to hell if you can’t make god real…

I’d let the wind blow to me, let the beasts fuck through me, but nothing is scary as a friend, I’d let the wind blow to me, let the beasts fuck through me, but, nothing is scary as a newly gotten friend, each embrace apotheosis of the serial heartlessness that begs untimely endings to impend, I’d let the wunderkind talk to the goslings, if it meant loam was the compound, sputtering foam to the content, as it was plucked from the spawning, undertones of on-and-on-ing, blank as wind blow to me, let the beasts fuck through me, but nothing is scary as a friend, I’d let the wind blow to me, let the beasts fuck through me, but, nothing is scary as a newly gotten friend, I’d wish lonely as stoneware and unknown as a toenail, must I one more fuckin’ coffee dollar spend, I’d let my bones grow long, enough to hang a thong, about ‘em like a flag, and let it swing and sag, and let it represent me better than a-- Hold that rib on a throne, don’t let it sing, don’t let it wail… it loves far too hard don’t let that old strand sew its tale… gone is the city that will remember us, just in case the death of us tries to open stores…

You got fond memories then you ain’t killed enough yet, if I were me I woulda cum a hundred times by now, but I have got no teddy-rain to hump, and if I perched my cliff up on a hill, I’d tell the sky to jump… (I’ve got a breath that’s crawling up me) You got friends that bring you solace you ain’t broken them yet, if I were them I woulda yelled at me ‘til I was down, for now I’ll wear this old quilt as a shirt, and if the ocean staggered to my porch, it’s beads’d turn to dirt… This world is garbage, it’s too late for most of you to mean, this world is limp, it’s way too late for most of you to feel, you find your fear cute, keep that motherfucker like a pet, and if I don’t hate you, I don’t know you yet… If I’m down I’m telling you don’t try to help me up, I’ve got ways of getting myself up on my own self, and some of you ain’t tryin’ to imagine how I do, but lots of you know, exactly what I mean… I had told the freighter that you’re in my arms again, I better lie to the erased that you are in my arms again, or else they’ll think I ain’t their friend… I used to walk for miles just to cry in my hometown, my metabolism feels less ta’en with crying as of now, so how do I keep walkin’ round… I had told the savior I knew exactly what it meant, the ruins looked like p.o. boxes where empty envelopes sent, no way it was a settlement… I went to the field where I used to fuckin’ fuck, what does it mean to move there like the runoff were an entranceway, the midday haze makes it look that way… I wept and I unfolded and I was hungover again, I played four squares at recess and was in the sun again, the vegetables were fresher then… I’ve undone the freighter the museum’s full of kitsch, the knife took years but slowly it removed my every stitch, I’m scared I think I got my wish… Someone lifts a valance and it rips inside of me, the sleepout is a shelter and it bakes inside of me, amazed I’ve cried my throat away… There’s a pretty wasted person hidden not that deep in me, but a lilac bush should blossom anywhere I fucking spit, I’m looking for a family slightly larger than this, so I can love extensions like their partners or their friends… Myself and home community are just at loose ends, how will I ever tell them what happened when I left, I never even gathered to the point, during which I tried to break a sweat…

I can’t dance, my hips are full of splinters, I can’t laugh, my humor’s bloom of ash, I can’t dance, my hips are full of splinters, I can’t laugh, my soul is full of ash… Let the wind blow itself, I have got the heat to know… I can’t stand, my rest is all my living, I can’t strip, my clothing’s all my skin, I can’t stand, my rest is all my living, I can’t strip, my clothing’s all my skin… Let the wind blow itself, I have got the heat to know…

Goodnight, Newark, no I don’t mean goodbye, I just mean goodnight… and if there come a day when I am twice as dulled as I today, by so much hair since bit I skinned the dog, then goodnight, Newark, goodnight… If morning comes, (I do not know! I shall not know if the morning comes until that morning comes!) Do they tell me touch the sky so I can make the morning cum, do they fear that without me their work is done... …and if I purchase a new wallet with the money in my wallet, I will transfer all those scraps of paper softened from years worn into the new one, so it misses who I’ve gone… It’s a cliche but (oh, ah!) mmm (ah!), it’s a cliche but (oh, ah!) mmm (ah!), it’s a cliche but (oh, ah!) mmm (ah!)... …then goodnight, Newark, no I don’t mean goodbye, I just mean goodnight… and if there come a day when I have had my sweetness harvested, then goodnight, Newark, goodnight…

I made a straw of this velvet arrow, and now the bones believe in marrow, but still no aftermath… I glazed a vent from sweat and hair, and now the lungs believe in air, and still no aftermath… next headline pilot believes in small, last headline she believes at all… That wooden vestibule I’m making, has little marbles for the taking, that won’t melt in her lake… so after hours and hours of tasting, she’ll find the time she thinks she’s wasting, revealed hind peeled mistake… and now that ball’s resolved to sink, I hope displaced is time to think… Enrobed there’s only so much time to stay involved and I am only, one edge of my world, embodied there is so much sand to lug if I’m to love, so I am always, on edge with my girl… This stemmy poke-thing just got trophic, let’s see if it can take the joke ‘cuz, its joint is fit to flick… it soon will make ripple this lake, and teach it that it’s fake it’s already eight layers far too thick… she’ll fly away its aftermath, she’ll phrase its biles like a wrath… I had her drive me to a window, in the trunk of her car, sat there cold and waited ‘til near dark… the planes swung as if by trapeze, and phone lines slung rain drops then freeze the egrets flat to floor of park… my life depends upon this view, the sunset’s soft and I walk through… Of all the laundry lines that seem to commandeer, I know I’m only one roof over waves, of all the gifts to earth that others can jump off, I am the only one bridge that she gave… and there’s nothing here to save-- And in case of water, that can grow a darling, I’ll never come home, to that scar-spun parlor, frozen blood in garlands, I would leave it alone, if it meant that darling, would be pardoned phonemes, would be luck as lightning striking upwards into vacuum, strangled suckwards, swinging like a plastic bag birthed burning ready round a babe’s head, and if I feel she must be found let runoff find her underground closed flat like a door smacks murderer’s face plucked loose in a morgue, rust loose like a-- pipe runs sorrow to the fount, ceilings shuffle out its mouth, warm and running flows the house, breathes my bedroom inside out-- I am sorry, I’m so sorry, my blood rushed back to you, I’m so sorry… Enclosed in star nests night sky burning, an organ’s voice got to returning, said can you hear your pilot’s whir… I said if he’s born out of grieving, but she down there’s born for believing, then I believe in her…

Smile at me, long ago, smile at me, long ago, smile at me, long ago, smile at me, long ago… She looks, so sad to me, wiffleball, in the garden, but if I keep meeting her sadly, how can I locate her inside of her, I don’t know why… Do not speak with irony anymore, the last irony died upon the cross, just say what you can’t mean so you can keep on having reasons to keep talking… and if while I am out taking a walk, you wander into the entranceway to find, a young girl in white tights and velveteen dress, standing alone, anticipating… Take her as she is, take her as she is… (how is it that this could go unheard)... Imagery absorbed most of the light, we had to choose between summer and night, and once summer was chosen there was never enough darkness to keep searching… so if you find her lone in mottled sun, just understand the work that she has done, and play some wiffleball with her, pick up where she left off and just keep learning… Take her as she is, feel her like a kiss… (how is it that this could stay unknown, that slight events impede its flowering)... I’ve always had fond memories of these girls, I have a birthday party coming up, I should climb this graveyard every day… I feel like every world I inhabit is dying, our best chance to get treated well is lying, but I just keep on waking up post-nightmare, despite not really trying… so when you see her disheveled, rise from bed, just know I let sleep wake us up instead, and she’s done something big, she’s still so tired, please wait some time before suggestions… Take her as she is, know her when she’s here, call her ‘cuz she’s here, call her ‘cuz she’s home!