you cannot read what you do not collect the rain came in algidity after suffocating heat still the ravaging of marow is worth it tendons swollen & seasoned with need madness is always a hunger that i am even able to eat is its own feat i have learned to swallow charitably cede my mouth to the gristle cede my tongue to cartilage a former fixation on writhing now what is left? what is present when the flesh rots away? when the spirit returns to the magnitude it belongs? when my mother taught me how to properly eat chicken, she told me truly nothing had to be left behind. there is meat through the bone. this makes sense like Matter. nothing is ever lost. nothing is ever gone if devoured completely.
when i show you the illicit behind a fiberoptic veil— obstruction is a kind of foreplay. yes—this is an intentional seduction. this behind is a fiberoptic veil i build an economy on anything i can. yes—this intentional seduction is suppose to be a delight. build this economy on anything i can’t. my taste is acquired, so take your time. suppose, this is a delight— the mystery, yours to solve. you take & taste my acquired time. take what wilts from my lips— you—the only mystery unsolved. i can never stop questioning my mouth. take all that wilts, my lips. where every fantasy i try leaves me dead— i can never stop talking about my mouth. here, my tongue is bile & tomorrow. they leave me dead in every fantasy i try— the overgrown prophecy i am to witness. bile becomes swallow here & tomorrow— some end time we have already faced. the prophecy lives to overgrow the witness. no future belongs to my body. these end-times we already face. my testimony is the absolute of what i know. i belong to the future in my body— will truth survive the transmission? i testify in absolutes of what i can not know. what do we make of the delay? what will survive the transmission? reveal the half-life of the illicit, unmake myself as a means of delay watch for the obstructive foreplay.