DUSTBIN IN THE BUSH

It's hypocrisy it's an hypocrisy for them in their cars in their clothes in their skin.  No such thing no such chance in the world their world as they thought about it forgot about it plodding along in it the raw polish the delible paint and its tone striking that chord to obey the present in all its past layered with all these strange shaped bugs and their parts separated and smashed against the windshields in their cars in their clothes in their skins where it's hypocrisy an hypocrisy.

Looking looking away tuning in tuning out in and out depositing what affect the affected overtures and notes and tunes tuning in tuning out in and out depositing what affect the affected overtures and notes and tunes noting well not so well and the unwell out of holes and into holes hiding and issuing onto the back a back covering the absence of music silent atonality skinning alive participants in the stripping away of conversation as words accumulate and disappear into orifices regorging among the purges and the whispers dark clumsiness tangled cues and poked vision taken aback.

Getting up and out to use the bathroom bumping the right kneecap the under part of the knee cap on a corner of the corner table where the magician's hat sits full of soil on a plastic plate son of a bitch variations on grammar's spray into the black flashing with bulbs of exclamation.  Feeling for the magician's brim checking for its upset and finding it not there displaced crawling on the floor flattening a cheek against the side of the bed approaching the corner as it sharpens into arousal deflected variations on deflections.  No dirt hands sliding along carpet soaking up sweat and unintended maneuvers. 

Standing on top of the building with her dog watching the dark purple sky forming cracks of red and orange both fists aglow with their own tight bristles of hues dipped in chapped lips.  Enough stories up choked up fed up diving across it to make the sash.  Just another segment of the rollercoaster front car sticking toes in the sprockets of celluloid this film another sequel inflicting its variations those fucking variations. 

"Up here high enough as high as it will get those levels those stories plenty of stories to go around fall down through descending into some kind of bypass bypassing something passed by.  Stuck stuck stuck on a word a word a clump of words open these fists at those fists opening to let fall as they slide and drop off of the what exactly is this supposed to be is this supposed to be?  Questions are sprung over the edge of this strangled majestic summit for defacing only facing the sky as it ignites another realm along its reflections igniting with fueled illusions flammable and ovulating with reproducible meaning.  Should have brought up that poem or essay was it one of those things that used to be written once when there was or wasn't the things that have miscarried.  Will it be a scream will it be the usual speaking under the breath so no one continues to continue on paying no mind no minds paying anything to continue on instead of that poem was it an essay was it one of those things that have miscarried.  Drop it spit it out drag teeth along the tongue seed for discharging this existence one burst at a time caught on the bottom of teeth grinding to a stilted manner of being used to it being used for being used.  How does it start?  How does it end?  How does it go?  How does it stop?  How does it move impatiently and sluggishly unending in its duration without duration just at the least expected recognizable patch of carpet bristles of hairs of surrounding caverns invaded welcoming incomprehensible words assembled into narration so hesitant to find here this here lost again embedded in between waves of neurotic curves disguised as something else other than what it ends up not bringing into focus among the exhibits.  Exhibits was part of it

Exhibits along the way
For them they posed
Ventures in liquid
in liquid

Exhibiting was what it was

Exhibiting tubs of no

No not starting there not here

Veils exhibiting stares
Covering messages unsent
Building up expression
An eyelid behind a painting
Of solitary crowds

Or maybe the solitary in crowd

Then that might make it in as inhibit or inhibiting.

Inhibiting it in bit by bit

This is it

Inhibiting it in bit by bit
Speaking at length
No amount of content
Content or discontent
Does not matter

Could be might be what no longer could be could be longer than it needed to be being of sound mind unsound mind mind of too much sound no sound at all to cross it all out crossing to reach for the sash no more comments regarding someone that someone else who misinterpreted so much as if trying to make someone else out of this here than no more comments regarding someone else reminding not minding anymore no more no more comments regarding that uncertain someone else misinterpreting so much left it at or for a time don't really know can't get a handle on it while considering reaching for across for that sash no sound at all not even imagining imagining no more no more comments there it has to be here not there for someone else caring for no one else not here nor there nowhere no name not even nothing uneven leaning towards the sash no more comments for that certain uncertain indecisive misinterpreting someone someone else has someone else in their mind never mind no matter not to leave it at or better this than no more comments regarding that certain uncertain someone else mistinterpreting most things about someone else reminding of someone else minding someone else's matters not a certain someone's just an uncertain someone's inhibiting it in bit by bit."


- Max Stoltenberg