25/11/21

Melancholy cheese strings on the train, a hart-leap well I’m damned if I’m a deer again, headlit and what the head does sunk into blue is it. We have no context for this, the original product, having never eaten cheese that comes from the moo cow, not exactly, having pulled strips of this I always felt, used to date one with the cheese string hair, the way it fell lank orange and I’m sorry for saying it, wanting to tease these strips from his hair, and I was just a curious baby. If you put, no dip, all toes in the well, well it’s high time a change is gonna come. Couldn’t load search results because of the depth, the whole swell of it well I’ll belong there, the deep abyss of the waterproof trousseau which inherits the earth like a skateboard. All season I’ve been sick, the prologue to sickness, a sort of viscosity which gets in your chest, spit language, pulp and gingham, mentioning the internet. I am so green! At this stage where it’s all just fault, scroll/draw a line around your perfect day, London Euston. There was a time you’d arrive here and find it empty, sucking the thyme lozenge, applying the apricot jam of a space bar not to wear out the sorbitol or play gong, I’m so tired. Flip. I’m so tired and watching comedians run around the room in my sleep and collapsed at the great palace, rows and rows of goldcrest poppies belonging to fields themselves, garish, give them back. Intermittent jewellery is to be worn tangibly and not taken, the lecture theatre in my dreams full of kittens is mewing even after they’re gone. Please keep your distance. Please don’t sit here. It’s not about distance, it’s all about air. Peeling strips of the sentence to eat again; this tastes fake, it’s plastic. The kittens I’m certain wouldn’t eat it. I don’t remember ever enjoying anything or feeling ascent to a feeling, don’t remember what the sea is. I don’t remember yesterday. The present-tense is lovely. It is a pilot launch of tiny utopias. You look so gold in the train light at two o’clock your hair is long and gold you are wearing the rose-print pensive you are reading Ludd Gang. A blousy afternoon. I don’t remember my body underneath the white jeans, I remember my body waitressing. Want space to lie down alone crying very softly, catalytic and deeply the infinite when you start crying and then realise that you are crying for everything, there is so much saved up to cry about you’ve been waiting a long time without knowing, a whole spree of feelings — dropping the platter of mussels, two plates — just to be present in the world to have this reason to cry it’s very beautiful. Someone always asks why are you crying, I don’t know why I am crying is to follow or curl into the fact of their question — it isn’t a knowledge, never was. Haar and garlic. I never was crying for knowing something or unknowing it’s just being born the overlove, blurred, I don’t know I can see anymore. I mean see the real thing. When the screen comes as a dream does it’s blue and pressing, how my fingers dissolved all the letters of the keys like pigment or prints transferred. Medicinal juices. How does it happen? Fabric curlicues traced on my clavicle, henna swirl. Special oils secreted or birdshit on train carriage windows, sandwich containers, pieces of gingerbread. Finally I understand where the midlands is by moving a chair and falling on England, a whole new river. Maria but this is the North. You can’t just peel the river off the land like a string of cheese, an artery, waltz into the takeaway late at night be like “mate you still open?” nostalgic for the physical prime of my body and what I did with it, shift to shift, horrendous aporia of cereals knotted in the permanent heartburn of Tuesday. Please mind the step down onto the plateau it’s callous a thousand, mini gingerbread people of the world unite; I bite off my head, I bite off yours. In just two hours my out of office turns on. We turn me. More than 90% of children around the world are breathing air toxicity in the breath of the earth, exhaling grace, the silver gelatine print of the sky is false. It’s all false. What I mean is even if the possibility of the correct thing were falling on my head “like a piano” I would still be a child, pushing 1p coin between keys because I want the sharps to stick. So always to drone on the halo, orange of all lossy tooth or floss the pith from your 16:10, fucking on cough sweets. On departure from the palindrome of your life just like, poem. Haha poem. A trust fund for skylarks is raised and cancelled. Lost in the haar. Wings deserve better as people do for the want of a ceiling, warm bed, something to curl their limbs inside and feel okay. It’s for the want of feeling okay that I want to write. Alright. November is the cruellest month alongside March and August. Hold it betwixt your thumb and middle finger until it is swallowed a moon. This is very small in the glandular scheme of things with everyone’s suitcase cabaret and the carbon dating of marijuana. Well if I’m damned to it, drink from the hart-leap well I don’t feel so often, a kinda sippy paradise we all deserve excepting tories, haha, they’re out for our blood and onions, well if I’m bambi I’ll be okay, the water is warm and moving.

Starlight & Bloglore

Maggie O’Sullivan, Palace of Reptiles (2003)

                           *

If you wanted to know, I’m from Mars, like men are, or in the order of things what a man doesn’t know the controverse of other waters, almost all of us exist as ice. Never to be ready for end, its artificial blush, to edit and close to the distance of light. 

That you await water or more, gone muscle of the month nothing happened, acres of pleasure gone and into the stadium, more or gone to wake pink and stinging the dream, everybody wants to. The many-stomached among us arrive and wearing lace. We eat bees, we half kiss

If it is a mall and if analogue. I begin to forget the difference between, how easy it is to order hard slushie, rewind and loop myself into the fretless moment, a whistle of football, a slow man. Test acids:

No cup of coffee is hot enough. You up, you accuse me of people, I seem to have revelled in the air for too long. Where did our liquid water go? The intriguing discovery of three buried lakes, surface bruises. Had I the famous grouse and soda of your eyes are bubbles, we sup on the luminous and blemish, generous language. “Lack of a substantial atmosphere” was our review. Not to advise a trip here. Wait.

But trip, you go. Sip peaches under the bleachers, three poems. Not up yet. Not bright, not early. Waiting on me for the thirst. Bloglore, blueness, periorbital circles. Why so much neon pigment, not sleep, you go bass it is sultry “just pretend they’re your friends”. Advantage of entering thirties is the austerity of early sanguine, no YOU go to bed at noon; I will iron your watercolour until it is warm. 

Victory to the internet so said privacy, party, my vice a nightly garment, smelt pain. At the left desk dream-amaze you save me, take pictures in natural formation, go see frog. Conflagrate lateral flow, high up in the sentence is forfeit, your sweat.

There is a courtyard on Mars where daylight, nay the leafminer, leaves scarification. No more raids. I have been here in flesh and blood to salsify, lightly the oyster plant is edible and does not grow. You do shrub mail, you don’t hot. Everything to do could else refuse. 

No more scare, cup ring, close your accent permanently. 

Plans for the Fall. Accounting.

Enrol to all that and wear a cloud, I want to write this you, to you, lower ourselves to parallel tarmacs; am I to speak the particulate deltas of this planet, no this one, you are a rainbow. We could be anywhere. Alice says ‘sad foam’, ‘Disappear’. 

The money forth comes, does not accommodate thought; it is the feeling that I saw a seal. Start your bitcoin emptiness and pyre of light; I wrote on afternoon this letter. Ocean goes away.

Fullness and not to floss sleep from prison but I think the Marxist rabbits are fucking released.

Maggie says of the urge to begin mistakes. A surprise that the flotsam arrived here, not of shape, are you the sleekit to enter say the sea isn’t real

We build whole houses with roofs of sequin. Desperado attic of saltheart, salvage flower. Meadow / Black / Wild / Yellow varieties. 

I deleted 54% of this article. 

Substantial genitalia of the not getting wet.

1.6% argon, we are gone
where softly the walls sag.

Knit you a fortress of seasonal transition. Khora my lame electron.

Martian quality relayed in me a voice, surface, can’t get a full-length mirror from you, get dressed, exit the internet. I exist in this flat and wait for the post. No more furnishing.

Lemonade also goes this way. 

How did I thinner the telescopic? Lop a water? Log into the apple? 

Well, it is Red.

Starfish suck excess from solar landmass. 

Sometimes gravity, shoots you up, does not come back. Inelegant hipbone blue and yonder. Sometimes very close to the ground I like spiders. Eat you up. You up. 

What did you think of your time alone?

Playlist: March 2021

musk wish

the orange in the middle of daffodils was a song and when I saw you thru the blossom portal say all is well, you weren’t saying much but when I saw you thru the well with pennies, when I threw in the well my pennies well are they heavy? I made a wish on the topic of better, getting light or better, patterns on the vase aren’t like pollution or lightning storm at the top of Blythe Hill, but I noticed the temperature in California is 26 degrees right now

is it always the mild wet winter of narco swing and blithely fixing your bike to be rare in comparison, zero rate exempt from tending the flowers. I want to be a raw kind of feeling you peel me from bed I am become rosemary or behind the wall is a spring it gives, who delivers, there is pollen to breathe or not to believe I am warm dry summer as a mattress tastes of 

wanting to embody the reading, its sweat I listen back, the baroque life of water, agua viva and what cherished of haunting, not this, or more classical forms behold, memory dream on the back of march and not taking the air for granted, blisters and songs I would listen to what if I just get sick what if I am nausea after all 

reality I have a cheat code for bearing the rain like Proust didn’t have to, I hate food, what name do you give these creases, I am less than and tenderly to live in grey now where seagulls are more specific or can you say a herring gull lands on my arm at night or the formerly known as movement

alights at the scene where you ask for more sauerkraut please, let’s pull over, at the very least did we come here shining delete the bell is a girl or rind or grapefruit or very becoming after word marvellous today is beautiful about today it wanted to change our lives but who would assemble that statement, not for police who look in the beehives but scintillation is like, everywhere we study of illumined tinnitus, toothache, their white light crushes but did I establish 

taking the painkillers of chefs, being squeezed out of the area, I dream a fat free cottage for sale and is it your birthday I’m scared of the sound of bluetooth the bad grammar of science daily the refutations of rainfall where your city is better, blood-soft atmospheric I’m simmering gnocchi as we speak

the mile-deep plants beneath the ice of Greenland, birds-eye, closing the door, I fall for the novel corona warm salmon it is a cold-water wisdom dish in the arctic sponge cake taking my place off

the flowers! you held them outside the shut nightclub and from subatomic world you were lovely? I remember the irl as like endless page refresh not knowing which leaf would shake first or press water to go back, up, the ana-cathartic condition of touching my spine obsidian, you know everything

as some of us are in the gutter some of us are looking at mars I’m looking at you elongated and some of us wear musks of various species like white black or red musks my favourite is the red offering and to wear it with chilli tobacco and smoke out my window to spicy clouds will only work in lockdown 

like forgetting to mute in shrine of noise be sufficiently cooked thru a planet does taste like the species of a sex of deer is it tender or am I to make this with butter and yellow as yellow does a lot for itself for orange and musky everyone

unlock with your face, where is nautical the ID

I want to know twilight

~

black midi – John L

Aphex Twin – Acrid Avid Jam Shred

Felicia Atkinson – Lighter Than Aluminium

Yellow Swans – Limited Space

Lee Gamble – Locked In

Aïsha Devi – Mavda

Porridge Radio – Pop Song (Clarence Clarity remix)

NNAMDÏ – ART SCHOOL CRUSH

illuminati hotties – melatonezone

Remember Sports – Tiny Planets

Kississippi – Indigo

Savage Mansion – Wig Wise

Squid – Paddling

Dry Cleaning – Oblivion (Grimes cover)

Jinosaur Jr. – I Ran Away

Indigo Sparke – The Day I Drove the Car Around the Block

Fugazi – Afterthought

Drop Nineteens – The Dead