all of a sudden, it is too much muchness. my teenage self
would have eaten this up: he’s drunk, or he’s telling her – you’ll make
me start drinking again. dream blip, girl with M names the
last Paris poem, the first time we go to Paris is October and we will
(respectfully) fuck. we will watch the swans in the clouds and look
at the clouds, only; he says by the raw summer blue, I will take
you in slivers. just like the dream – the subjects disintegrate, blend
into themselves and themselves; but here is the story, it’s
reigniting of autism/passion through a new view: the author as
this pathetic guy. begging depression princess for a blow job – can you get
better material than that; depends on the artist, my center cannot
hold to the job, I could buy a new notebook for the new plan
but better than that, I pick myself up, I use what I already have.
poem: hauntology
the last pavilion 