Thursday, April 8, 2010

I’m Having Heart Palpitations Like You Wouldn’t Believe.

Labels: , ,


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“The tooth wedged in the Fleshfist: The Hooked Beauty of the World” – Boris Izsus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Now, not knowing how to get to the Next Movement Down, what’s hid in the [skin’s] Fall, engrained in this Surface Explosion? We’re Falling Together now, as tho, to destroy the Right Angle of Opposition’s Consciousness. Creeping out of that touch & onto this one: a process of elimination, that’ll Aggregate the Narrative Seams

i.e.

Their Objection cannot compete [Eat] with Our Voice

Thus, what Violence, should occur, perpetually in flesh, to enable a Private Language to be Torn Open? A barrier then, must overlap in thinking in, my inability to relax in, an attempt to cross the Street, Frame, without reason, a Spectator confronts an accidental resistance “I say, this aches”—a Break, in Form, Combustion within another Storm of Consumption “I attempt to fall” into the localization of being being formed of Bullshit Lovingly Touched, a Force, Direct of Thirst—to anti the Isolation of The Body’s Consumption thus:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What about all this Dancing?”

“The difference is always in, or on, The Body” heavy with Loss thus:

Pull Down Thy Movement, Pull Down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



The Body of my Objection, is woven into the proposal of attempting to “I Object this Fall.” Worms in Performance. Foliage in the fuck I’m Falling. My life then, begins in contracting Spaces. A quick stare above to the Screen & I realize that is not like me at all, as my Violence comes with a Kiss, tenderly. It is I BullFaced, that is found, scrambling in this Space, to Dance us Home Tight. Blurring the Lines, signed: “Easy to Love” hung from the Textual Neck, I fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Before we become Tautologies------------------->mine, answer me this:



What is this Lewdness of Attraction?


In this instant, it’s a Question of digging to Down the, what is most like our Image of Adoration. Hiding along the Stalk, nothing enters, that is not, in some Form, an Intruder’s Activity. Thus, in a single Blow, I could denounce them all. But I won’t, consumed with too much Love, intermixing with a Vulgar Language. I’m a drive towards the Giggleblow. A Pulling towards a Driving Biting Down. A means to accelerate the rate of our Bodies Falling Down, so that we’ll exceed just a mere Image that we reflect in a Frozen Frame



& thus: A Bolo Bout------------------------------->we’re [un]lenting The Fall.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

See, I have the right to conceive of a Face, a Facial Falling that isn’t mine. But one, without a doubt, I shall consume, lovingly. The measure of force, as a measure of my Internal Desire, falling. Yes, the Storm begins in the proposal of an Objection, its shape, rushing towards you, instilling within you the fact that we are, indeed:

whelp, we’re already falling.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



To Fall: what a horrible sight, but one that offers a definition of the Flight of Seduction in Love, we Fall

Scattering the Flesh along the scuttering Fault, which returns me again, to Our Faces, Falling—into


our Intimacy, which co[i]llapses close, down to the Body, we go Falling, Down. God, I’m fucking down. Face Down. A Shoulder Down. A gaping mouth astounds in it’s Vocal, I’m down—to one side, The Falling, the rapidity of it all, it’s Burning in Focus which haunts me, warmly.

Thus, our Hands extend only to enact a Hustle, a Hidden Hold on the Body. Our Heart, should strike there, where a Comedy could then Begin & it is there, I want to Eat with you, in The Falling, where the Gravity is not Proper.

~~~~~~~~~~



In all, to enact a History of the Background of the Body, which is one, fundamentally, where The Body, Begins it’s

Tenderly, We Fall

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I’m Having Heart Palpitations Like You Wouldn’t Fucking Believe.

Brought to You by at