When these words have finally been forgotten or these laptop buttons get permanently stuck with sweat with crumbs with gravel with lint with oil with grease with seeds of of of this this these seeds with seeds of theirs of his of hers of its wasted seed that can not fertilize a damn thing when these words have finally been forgotten and deleted and wiped away and blown away then maybe then maybe only then there will be an end to this miasma before it gets its power washing and made pretty for a window a big shopfront window before that these words might be finally forgotten and deleted and hollowed out with the dull peal of bells funeral bells to peel away the last layers of caked on meaning with its cloying treacly frosting for the remaining performance that remains to perform surgery to remain to remove that which can be instead used to congest and occlude the spaces between these buttons these keys these fingers that type with such compliance to the pealing of the bells the funeral bells to impede and finally stagnate and congeal these thoughts these words almost not really almost this despair just so these words can be rearranged again from one sentence to another from one paragraph to another from one page to another from one illusion to another from one room to another and its odors can be covered and revised and rearranged and they will you will inhale and exhale and inhale the wretched effluvia from mouth to nose to mind to nose to mouth to hole to hole to bloody to shitty to bloody hole bleeding hole to hole to hole.
Almost kept it secret almost kept despair almost fully embraced it almost consumed almost kept it from becoming from being from becoming public almost made it small too small for their microscopes to search in vain in these veins clogging with stuff their stuff this stuff enough never enough stuff never enough almost never had enough unhappy enough to be rid of it for good almost good when will this stuff put together be almost good this junk that gets mailed in that gets mailed out that gets sent out that comes back almost near almost too far from the ocean almost dead to take it away instead it almost flows it almost flows in these veins outside these veins almost have a rhythm almost have a theme almost gets off the ground almost breaks the surface almost gets under the ground almost lies down almost dies almost obliterated and gets rearranged for the next nose next mouth next hole next label next box next meeting next show next event and this never this always this never almost this always turns out the same no matter how it is knitted line after line after everafter surrounded by rearranged and deranged concentric rippling circles of laughter craftier laughter.
Her: What was that?
Him: What was what?
Her: What was that whatever it was that I can almost tell what it was?
Him: What do you think it was?
Her: It almost sounded like you said something or were about to say something.
Him: And what does that sound like?
Her: It sounds almost like your breath almost gets sucked into your mind your head almost more deeply for just a moment and then it stops almost as if it will never continue again and then it almost comes out of you to almost say something that could almost surround me with something almost intact or totally leave you for the last time almost. If that was what was happening or almost for you or just pretend that was almost the case for you what would it be like for you?
Him: For me? I don't know.
Her: What's the first thought that comes to you or the last one the most recent or almost next to it that comes to you come on.
Him: Well, I think of the kid who was almost my friend in that place we almost got to stay more permanently but couldn't and they ended up knowing someone who almost got involved with that guy who almost made it big in a field that was almost left alone but wasn't.
Her: I think I know what it was that I thought I heard.
Him: Really? What was it?
Her: It's almost there I almost have it almost on the tip of my tongue.
There was almost once upon a time a person who almost got across almost to the other side where they were waiting they said they were there maybe they never were but they said they would be almost once upon a time and so almost once never happened or really almost never happened and so it went on that this person almost got across and stayed where they were for a long time after this almost once upon a time.
Her: I almost have it like it's almost like the peeling off of layers of an annoying song that gets stuck in your head your fabric of life and can't be ripped out without destroying the fabric with what is it called that word that brings our eyes together in a dark tunnel for just us closing in what is that word?
Him: Despair. Almost able to hold on to it in our embrace with it with each other. My head, too, echoes a low dull echo ringing almost like what you are saying or I think you are almost saying about peeling off the layers of an obnoxious tune that is eradicated for a moment with the dead tone deeper that any empty space left enough to ring with bells funeral bells.
Her: Funeral bells. Funeral bells? Almost. For me, it's more like something else but I almost think it sounds more almost like something I'll think of soon. Almost have it.
Almost kept it secret almost kept despair almost fully embraced it almost consumed almost kept it from becoming from being from becoming public almost made it small too small for their microscopes to search in vain in these veins clogging with stuff their stuff this stuff enough never enough stuff never enough almost never had enough unhappy enough to be rid of it for good almost good when will this stuff put together be almost good this junk that gets mailed in that gets mailed out that gets sent out that comes back almost near almost too far from the ocean almost dead to take it away instead it almost flows it almost flows in these veins these almost ruptured intact mortally intact veins.
- Max Stoltenberg
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