Let it all begin to unwind for me. I could tell by the sound in your mouth that it had ended. As I walked through all of that cement to you, my eye in every pot, I could tell that it was over.

The blue stars will burn out of the sky tonight. I am surrounded by the walls of my love (all of you) but feel the loneliness crush my temples. Why should I stop striving now? I saw my legs move through olden times just a little bit earlier.

I’ll go onward though I am unsure:
-I waste all my time
-I am not learning what I should
-I bury my life in writing
-I can’t get out.

Ahh this Autumn night. I am mixed in with the amber music of the cicadas.

Am I alive for this moment? Do I whittle my life away on vanities? I have so many questions I want answered. And yet I sense that my life is a short thing. I’m drawing to its end.

Where are you? I look everytime I step into the daylight hours. For a liberation from this undue gloom. I place my key in your heart: come, come. And yet how to find when I’m confined like a caged beast. It’s choking me!

I can see all of the contours of your blue world. Kill me. I can hear the outside turning night. I am ready. Whenlast you tucked me in and tears ran down our faces: last August.


One year filed away into night. Two in the Sanlitun hospital. Three at the beach in Sanya. I thought it would be romantic to sleep on at night. Or to get out of the oppressive cold room. But all that approached was the heat and boats over the water.

I guess my flesh melts with these words. Indistinguishable media: ideas under the one, blood and bone under the other. Skeleton thoughts and skeleton body. Tick tick tick tic tick tick..

This music plucks on something rare in me. In the chords knocking one against other I fancy streets. Columbus park. Chop chop. AAA and the boats of San Li Tunr. Tortoise’s blue Hawaiian and the mosaic on the table. Night of bordertowns.

Lifts the blue sky above Brooklyn bridge. Oh I feel eternity in those words. Each night river and open space a cipher to young minds. This will fade too. Your hot acuity: out out out.


-How does it feel to wake up and be old?
-Well I have to get up in the middle of the night more.
No rest. Jenna’s movie.

Make a guitar out of these words. Have them — dock-dock dock ; dock—dock dock; yes but can the shifts flow atop — dock-dock— as we sink —dock— as the blue sink deepened after running —dock, dock—dock on top of the music too. They complimented the timber in your voice. Half faked, half-docked. Felt more like dock home on the lower frequencies. Los demiurgos. Deet-da deet: the chords shuffle over the balsam planes they cash up ringing. Like a grilse athronge plucking full-rede inn za treebark. Failed deet-a-dollar. Follow the note downwards like a slide.

I thought writing perhaps would help. (I knew there was a childish glint in her eye). Oh, how we tangled for a moment. Stupid coarseties. Burn!

Mind floating out of body. I’m not me. I’m this net. Trying to strum: which now I see as colored dendrites. Clearer clearer work into it: you. From go to go.

I was upset last night because it felt like I was rolling boulders. I collapsed on the floor again, waking up at an uncertain hour with a still-displeased mind.

And sometimes when I catch the train out can feel the improvement close lives have on the mind. 叹口气 I’m lonely and these wide open nights bore into my mind.

Regret. Anger. Fear. Humiliation. It always feels as if my heart is on edge. Like someone’s going to pull back the curtain and step out. Or put a claw on my shoulder. Gah. More nightmares than ever recently. Don’t know how to interpret. Delusional to see progress in unending malaise?: or its actuality. Throw a few questions into Blue Point and see how the water answers.

Aghhh but you didn’t respond. You could have shared in this fun whittling with me.

♪♪ Stan Getz – Luiz Bonfa – Jazz Samba Encore! – 1963 ♪♪

As the baby of Aruba sits atop my dictionary. Listen to this: My eyes are immobile: beetles: and dreams mix in with the wall. Pretty good? Zeiga zunt.

A cherry blossom for you. Her smile.

Whispering her name again and again on the highway with madness: Chloe, Chloe. Watching the sun sink the sunk sink dock dock dock.

We paint pictures to ourselves. And whoever look. Taste. Crab cake. Bananas. The film of tobacco on my lips. Bolete scent.

Ahhh: a little feeble tonight, a little feeble tonight I got the scream out. Wooh wooh the song fades.

I raise feet over the hot sand. Where has that brainmusic come from? And why every time that I step on sand? I see little hot coals jumping in time to the song. Pinned the umbrella to the wind with my legs. We exchanged quick glances before then…

Which of these words of mine will not fade? Or evoke the newness of me in the youness of then? That name I know. It was she came through the red bar the night we danced.

Woah! stop Woah. Fuckin guy almost mowed him down.
You can respond by saying:
1. 哥们儿好球
2. He was askin’ for it
3. [say nothing but draw first]
4. Blow on the cigarette: “The tortured ways that men express themselves.”

Tell ma I’ve struck some kinda rhythm here. Dee dee. For Sarp I flashed conductor’s hands. Hey! Get out of there, it’s not like that. Outside the moon is covered in black robes. I …wait on mercury to fling itself backwards through the sky. Pray to Mercury for something to buy an apartment with or season ticket to the world. VR?

I’ve always liked the guitar best. I like the shape of the neck, board with strings, and the round base. I remember when the strings dug holes into the tips of my fingers. Playing Borderline and Bowie: a dark year. Suicide often on my mind.

I-I-I the way the guitar melts with the fluttering trumpet here is nice.

I came down from the sweven in a place rocksbarre that seemed doubly un-familiar to me. The banners of your teeth were red with sausage and egg when you got the call. I knew it was coming to an end then. I tried my hand at poetry for all of that. Somewhat missed the touch. Yea I missed the touch. Clammy lobster dinner afterward I was obliged to go to. Whale Island. Pound the canoe’s side: drive em to shore: stab: fire in the hole: dead: drag up: slice of long sections: four cuts and sharpen: let blubber and meat and bones and unnecessaries hit the poisoned blue waves: peel more: two weeks later all of the bones are too big to move.

I know this isn’t darkening to the pattern I have stored to righteously put there for to show while a camouflage behind always camouflage too scared the self out or with to show for fail ways be gretst why if then then deck deck deck. It comes to roll with end. Pink ending or comes to fleck with green now ends.

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