“I was Sweating. I was sweating, in the Alley, in one’s Skin, beneath the Sun, beneath High-Rise & all of a Sudden, in one Shove, the Body got pummeled.” – Boris Izsus
To those, whose after here, here limped: of course was known about the Hands: live[err]ing in their unstable lines, which speak to us of nothing, if not, the ecstasy of the Visceral life torn down, at the End, is so light to touch so Tender with the Fist against my Lips & it occurred, my time had come to Expunge all, through a ceaseless Expenditure. I’m pressing it out towards one I’ll surely recognize by the enclosure of our arms at Noon, which had begun to erode all that we had Built, all that we had sought to View, which now, disappeared on Down. But that is the gallop which I was to ascend, as more than the Music, it is the lull that accompanies the Music as it departs, that fills me with a Warm Enclosure from all the looks of “without” that permeate the Eyes, in the Crowd, that I hold so dear. & it is true, that I desire a greater expenditure, which means there is always a means to attain, I’m expending further.
A means as it were, to my own Annihilation, will come with an Inverted------------------>kiss my Bulbous Ass.
Exploding then, within a Shower of endless Combustions of Expenditure. I understand you see, completely, the Language of the Roam, of the drive to be Ecstatic, without the Patience to still & await what may come because
I gotsta step up/[on]
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What is being built, is being torn up/down, as if perpetually approaching in it’s own [non]—[in]Completion. To stave off. The Seductiveness when Staving explodes within / upon itself, where I find myself in the Corner of the Room, studying myself as if to will the Will to define/align as Accidental, I’m Expenditure complete over there------------------------->a firming distance of Transgressions towards the Bust of my own Mouth, only now beginning to open it’s own Body there--------------->a Fostering Globe, Bulging itself thiefing a captivation of the Sound of my teeth clenched in the frozen, I bit down towards abandoning all [Narrative] Speech & to become only grunt absorbing the yaelp of my Muscles begging the------------------------------------------------------>tensestomp.
The Ecstatic Knave Stave
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The History of our [moving] Lives, are printed by, or reside in the Lines of the Hands of those who are undoubtedly dumb. The Dumb Principles of Simplicity & restraint: are for Ninnies.
You see, I’m gunning for the Bodybreakitdown see:
How magnificent [one could imagine] the Sound / Found------------------------------>a Mouf frozen open on
Body, Horizontally Plane, that says not a Word but only------------------------------>garumph, encased in
lips perched in
a parch
th’Eyes
[now we’re eye to eye]
I see in your Eyes, your Repiratorgasp------------------------------------------->The Great Ecstasy that unveils in Fatigue
as, you lay, on the Ground, on Down
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Thus, to expend all Musculature energy. The Body as it were. Like a Pig shaking in the Dumpster. This image traverses me, that of the Body flexed in contortions, perplexed & shimmering in its own Vision of Destruction. This is my own antagonistic vision of Happiness. To continually contort oneself, to force down to the Earth, whether the Plane of the Bodyplop or the Bodybuilding as [Interior] Room, of the restless Silence stirring in Head in Hand, the Bodyblack—ed back, out to the Rising of Respiration, Stop—[err] back.
& to begin again.
A Feast upon a feasting procession:
One doesn’t stop a bull from charging I, will not be stopped from limping forward in movement toward:
I’ll bite down the------------------------------>till I’m Bodyspent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thus, what is ‘alien’—ated from The Body is a Prospect of Violence, I suspect. My Idea of [as in what is Other] Presence does not mean approximation to my Body, as I only fully comprehend what’s in, as in goes in, my Body. & when it goes in my Body, it is only a Question of how I will, when I will, gather it’s [or their] Strength to help further Expend me, Down. Night throwns me down. A desire to approach the last degree of Ecstatic Terror, where one would fully penetrate the little bitchy “I” of it all.-------------àThe Body then is a Suspect, with a Pompous Dignity, the particulars of which, contaminate with an Opposing charged the translittering Observer in the Process, is only in Decay. Assimilation unserved. Better gulp it on Down, Little Boy Blue. I am devoid of headaches because I am blessed. Yet my head [ate] aches from this Talk, from trying to make digestible what’s in Head & as well, from all this around me, so close, so tender, so how I love, the participation, nature of redistribution, the random brush of the Shoulder of a Stranger against mine that I pass, in street & there is no Resolution no, my love, backed on your Back to the Wall, that is only the Barking of the Starved Dogs, that you hear on your back, Back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Limits you see, don’t exist now my love, so forget the word Fatigue &
