Static

There's this film between us, a static hissing and a loose vertical hold
but through it I can see you smiling and laughing, your voice somehow higher
rich and familiar, confusingly warm. We make these videos to remember.

Coming home to a wife and baby, feel her bend into you,
"Welcome Home" against your cheek.
You can do anything, we can do anything.

It changed though,
time changes you.

Maybe it's no different than with spiders, and in coming to know them you were able to find the knives to betray them. You knew in the end through having observed and measured each arm exactly how to cut these strings, though I don't imagine even now to understand their knots or where they met the ground.

Then again, maybe not.
It's just like these movies and the hiss that wasn't there until we looked back. Maybe you never cut these strings, God knows I editorialize, but maybe you did.
I can't remember, even with these tapes.
Even with tapes and tapes and tapes and tapes.

Advice

"Your stuff's fine... I mean good, your stuff's good."

--Andrea Ramsey on why Oscillations should be updated more often.

hazard

it's a voltage problem
an overflow and a need to be grounded

an electric leak

uncovered outlet with cartoon lightning
pouring out like a tap, like a limp hose
lightning collecting around its coiled base
lightning collecting in the storm drains

it's not safe, but you know that
you could be swallowed by an earthquake
set upon by wolves or murderers
suddenly finding yourself under the ice, looking up and gasping
shocked

you could be shocked if you let yourself be

you could drop a radio in the bath
or shuffle along the carpet in socks
lick the outlet
kiss the outlet

there are tiny deaths waiting for you
treading water in this lit pool
the salt of my skin a conductor
these lips just conduits.

Tense

I need to write something, or I needed to...
I needed to find a tense, having read the Tense Present¹, and found myself drawn along the wrong lines.
Drawn along lines too honestly assessed and even.
One side giving me four. An enormously trite feeling of being 'boxed in'².


SWE/PCE and the always otherized other, that sinking feeling
"I can't dismiss this. I just wrote a paper about how I can't dismiss this."
What do I know though?
I don't know anything and yet I run in the idiom of this thing that claims to.
What claim do I make?³

Don't mistake these twitching fingers for eager hands
I make no claim with them. I aim to make no claim with them.

¹: unflattering, coy wordplay
²: demonstrable evidence of something too ugly to admit
³: let us not forget, we present something in what we say as well as how we say it⁴
⁴: I'd forgotten.

facetime

chipped

that's what happened
somewhere along the line i chipped
and a fault
chip, fault and the lines that flow out of it
it runs up my face and around the back
like a mask
but not like a mask thematically
the opposite of that, really

like a smile

2-(1H-indol-3-yl)-N,N-dimethyl-ethanamine

the dimensions of outer space vision
comedy that attracts back to living
webs in solitude suspense in the living room
holes

intrrrimediate

East, yet to be seen.
I want to be there, and feel the stares of people I will come to know.
Mutually.
And in the meantime, get to know the homegrown.
owned, breeded and sold.
purity, no washing of the product.
sources.
it’s the weekend. oh it’s a party.
but my party. and i will last through it. and sustain in the daytime.
sleep is close to secondary.
primary and a half.

and as the lights go out on the train, everyone is sent in a tender panic.
the changes are comforting to my own cycle.
and it has returned and i can maintain it.

i can see the natural white blonde which is stunning. in any setting.

my hunger unsettling. no problems with it.
blonde is like cream in my strawberry champagne
and i just want something to fill me.
as unappealing as the formentation white may be.
it settles a desire.

influences of kerouac, jack
discussions of junky and bringing it back (junkie)
sugar and her heart attacks
in the emotional standpoint
an aspect of which i have eliminated madness
and respect with total control.

today's date.

depart from this ego
comfort in your own state
learn to love yourself and the folk
it’s okay, sometimes.
to enjoy the sensitivity.

Careerism Cassandra

In a cool, dry, place, unkempt:
holding a hospital in yr claw, what should be holding you.

Stop, tether, stop. We don't walk so good.
Staggered amongst recordings, seeded and dead,
proceed to dive, without warmth.

I've gotten nowhere with these moans,
these nighttime initials.
Tumbling feelings, parasitic infections, burrowed in seagrass,
shivering between blades,
coming home to sand and a shell I expected to grow into.

But the flesh does not move unless by dragging, unless by wolves.
I do not grow myself,
Tumors don't diagnose, the plugging does.

Fix and kill, fix and kill, you can't plug a home because we do not rescue behaviour. Behaviour satisfies within cages. we do not monitor you.
They'll feed us to the dogs, Cassandra. ou'll eat yrself and I'll rattle through the howls...so fucking depressing, so fucking depressing. Fix us. Kill us. Stop. Tether. Stop.x
Bodies in a cool dry place, classified, and never known.

If I'm going to waltz I'll do it clumsily
sloppy and incomplete
wrist to wrist, like I sleep
because there's plenty of opportunities
to do things well.