Saturday, April 3, 2010

Let's Sweat it Out





Tissue me this First issue My Dear:

to disturb, let’s displace the Mouth, where within, a “Body” subject[ed] in Bodily, Homily—I want to be that Bad Feeling—an Exteriority turn Interiority thus:

let’s give: ----------------------------------------------------------------->a Spatial Facial, Breaking

a Space: ------------------------------------------------------------------>bombing a Descent

towards this “City” c’mere here, I’ll fling us an Upheaval & Down we Go:


[to keep from Grounding, I keep my Body in a State of, perpetually I’m in a Falling, rot]

Thus, calling into Question, this inexhaustible consumption, performed within a Generalized, I limit the Space, attempting to shift, towards a shitting Blank Space, in which to defend myself—of resistance, the Gaze turns the other way, tears a backbone from, advances & leaps forward in Representation & thus reveals the Scene in suspense: I FRAME my Body as an aching Whole, pressed as one, emerges Nude, equivalent to the act I dance, appears to remember before the Scene I described [not]—at the end of my days, dreaming in Italian, I set a blazer down & die lonely—thus, I become open to an awakening of devastating Dominance & when confronted, the One in the Entrance, again is submerged in, my Leprous way, who fl—ills itself absorbed “outside of” symptoms disturb the sense “I Face an Entrance of my ears Burn, Ma”—& thus, to speak of this Bodily—accident as singular, is gone, to light, in the Circular, itself looking, I’m looking silently articulating in an embrace, my desire, to constitute the Scene as a movement of biting down, now literally the defense of Chewing. As all point toward the material Specter [is out my Ass] approaching the Form, in its patient condition. Down there, it’s all Seasonal Flu. All a Chicago Scream Institution, forming within the tone of my [pleasing] YAELP & we’re none the Wiser—Falling now, is rotting together, now in Speech say “arrested on your attention, I intention a Spine” intertwined with the force to erupt out this fucking Head, deploys a [calm] Violence, inverses the inverse of reverse of Seduction: “I want to be your Secret Offender” & that’ll pack me, firmly within, as if, to insert, or rather exert my [rear] Kiss in your tender, I’m beating Heart, voweling a Stop to disturb the Sureface of your utterance—BLOW the shhhhhh, we’re pressed again against, against one another to the degree that [Violently] we’re able to become, fucking a parasitic formed, in advance the Exact, extracting our Face to Fucking Face I fuck.


Apparently, I’m [puckering]

up [conditioning] so as

to “lay down” my Shadow

asshat, so quiet now

in relation of [re

talliates] an Extreme

[streams of a] Question up

[on] the Surface of

an act

bearing a dissolution of

the Bodily—[ob]

scene, sleeves me in

that [fucking]

direction of that possession, I

[want to]

taste &

[fucking resureFace]


Thus, the terrifying nature of my slowly, daily I’m shifting Face & my Body as if trapped in its own I View, inverting the innards Ass of Desire in opposition converge upon in, surely I’m Adorned—expressing the vein of tutelage [y]earns & there, suddenly appeared THE HORIZON against my eyes attempting to impose the Brutal Face, that yes I am but Bodily—irruptive, baffled by my own, my god I’m terrified of my own reflection. How to retract, restructure, reduce the Space[d] consumed within, as in violently fucked & tucked away within? Eh, it begins it seams in mine Limbs, suctioning upon this entire structure I lug around, as meat slipping away, eluding my fundamental Grasp of a personal governance, by the insistence of this very threshold which reveals a figuration of the figure I long to be. To speak of the Body down, dragged down in place, plane a position in where shall I ever retrieve myself down?—I must now begin to stretch—out, forming the attempt to [under]line everything in erasure. Supposing such a formalization, what I might term: Man Tumbling, Down, were possible to conceive, this internal condition would be to be performed on the GROWREL of Sensations—I object, by disappearing, bursting out of this entire enveloping Frame, moment by movement, I’m abandoned & project towards stasis. A STUDY OF ANATOMICAL [IN]SUCTIONS. I sing from the cut—off, a remodification, to employ a means of meat measuring in fundamental forming fucking I event then my god how I fucking wept.