there’s no body for the soul to go into.  as a murderer can better tell you where the survivors are, a baby can worship its mouth.  I hear coughing when I’m about to be gentle.

~

dream enters the girl I’ve decided to have.  you know her mother as the doctor of my impostor.  as the one who said the battery is real.

~

I abandon my cane like a robot that wants to climb a tree.  there’s a mattress that’s not the river she pulled it from.

and if the myth be true, that the devil tempted with a fruit of knowledge, that man then was able to fathom like the ancient greeks atoms, then god tempted the devil by placing a mirror in the devil's domain, turning the devil's solipsism into narcissism, and thus devolving three dimensions into two, subsequently making the evil one a hallucinogenic.*

hypochondria is the
weirdest kleptomania,
you never steal anything
but you're adorned
by such prizes as non-existent
cancers, headaches, itches,
gnats of conscience, flu &
irritable bowel syndrome; etc.

i turn into a ****** addict while drinking on the windowsill.*

the quasi head-banging on the windowsill,
an animate thing imagining
itself being inanimate,
torso for the crumbs of stalk bark,
limbs for branches,
thoughts for roots,
emotions for the winds,
fasting; let the head on neck lullaby a wobble,
and let's leave it at that, to begin with.