morning, wood floor.

good christ, there was a vision. 

endless and impactful.

looping on itself, hungrily.

vomit and feces.

devouring and starving. 

AIDS, engulfing.

stringing code together.

it was always there in length and width.

good christ, you've seen it in slivers.

tiled, gilded.

recurring dream right before actual sleep:

being shoved into subway tracks and being dragged forward by the train and sparks everywhere for so long i get bored of them. when the train stops i'm caught between two cars, being fed alcohol by coworkers in bottles of peroxide. time ticking down before they move the cars and everyone thinks I'll live but i know I won't.

can't make you work.

THEY PIECED TOGETHER OUR LANGUAGE

BASED SOLELY ON OUR LETTERS. AND TH

ERE WERE NO EASIER PARTS TO ASSEMBLE

THAN OUR NAMES. DANGLING MONSTERS

WITH ENORMOUS HEADS AND SLASHES. C

RYING FOR ATTENTION AND DEFINITION. 

GIVING ITSELF FAME OVER SENTENCE STR

UCTURE. CITIES WERE CELEBRITIES AS PRO

DUCTS AND PROGRAMS AND MOVIE TITLES.

STREET SIGNS WERE CODES IN ANONYMITY.

DIALOGUES SLOWLY CAME.