Wednesday, April 24, 2013

ARTERIAL TRESPASS

Dragged kicking and screaming was thrown from a window  nailed into a picture frame banging its head against cavity walls disposed of rejected and expelled from sentenced to crushed into a space too big for its blood to stay in one place a course in tragedies extorted and appropriated into a line a narrow passage that stretched for breath after breath nonsense was at the window how did the view get trifled with too late to be left alone too late to be left.  That is not that is not dust but the dried guts of a bug the only thing they could be correct anyone about if they were given the opportunity and they never weren't that is not dust and they never weren't.

Not fit for a couch not even fit for how they couched their fits time has been shot into the skin like flakes of cereal soaked with grape juice the experiment of a child the beginning of the familiar odor of failure to permeate every piece of clothing out in the streets and up close under the nose dangling from the top of the brain tortured in the private narrow suffocating bedroom pressing issues someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft its time to look ahead straight ahead at the towels on the wall of the elevator blocking the controls towels unwashed towels the room is heading straight down the down button someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft.

Reading between the lines between the walls between stories between floors that is reading between talking between each other's running out running out of things to say they had run out on it all by getting away from it all by tucking themselves in between it all a tight squeeze for all the running out on it all they ended up ending up running into it all into each other into each other's running out running out of things to say that had run out on it all by getting away from it all by tucking themselves in between it all reading between the lines between the walls between stories between floors that is reading between talking between each other's running out running out of things to say they were floored the backside of wallpaper.  

Lack found it difficult difficult to open his mouth to speak let alone turn his head.  He mumbled, "Are we horizontal?"

Centesis stopping her what little movement she could make in order to hear Lack better, asked, "What?  Are we what?"

"Are we horizontal?" repeated Lack.
"Are we vertical?" 
"Or are we that?"
"You found your hat?"
"Which one?"
"The one with the weird symbol on it."
"5 of them had weird symbols."

5 boxes of personality test booklets out of 11 had been lost in shipping how else how else? would it happen?  would it happen? how else would it happen but when they were distracted by the 2nd violin section evoking the deaths of many at the hands of those evoking many whining otters if given the capacity to gargle leaving 6 boxes behind.

"Which one?"
"The one with the weird symbol on it."
"6 of them had weird symbols."
"What if you had half as many hats?"
"And how would this come about?"
"Because I asked the question."
"No, would this be the result of some accident or due to carelessness on my part?"
"Carelessness on your part?"
"Well, yes, do you realize how long it's been since I've had a cup of coffee?  I would have thought the withdrawal symptoms would have subsided by now."
"So what would happen if due to caffeine depletion you had half as many hats?"
"I probably would feel just as unwell as I do now."
"It wouldn't narrow anything down for you?"
"Narrow?"
"Narrow?  Anything?  Down for you?  You know in terms of narrowing down particular hats with particular weird symbols?"
"We're wedged inside framework so that my balls can be floss for a pair of nutcrackers and you're asking me if cutting my hats in half narrows anything down for me?"
"Yes."
"It has to be the weird symbol with the two sets of thick lines."
"The lines that go which way?  Horizontal or vertical?"
"The ones that go - never mind."
"Whichever direction we're going."
"We're not going in any direction."
"That's right.  I'm glad you're here to remind me."
"I'm not glad I'm here.  Or that you're here for that matter.  You know what I mean."
"I do.  Thanks for reminding me about that."
"You do."
"I do."
"I do."
"You do.  How does that strike you now saying I do?"
"I used to listen to my stereo in my bedroom when I was a teenager and I would put the speakers on the bed and lie down with my head between them and it was better than headphones until I would hear a knocking on the door and then it was over and there's the thought of going deaf because of the music but now that I have my head stuck between two walls and all I hear is the hum of machines or the scratching of the bug legs and their abdomens linger right where my head is and I can feel the terror of their hunger knocking on my skull it's only then that I get the I do my ear is smashed against it all I can hear is something else's digestive process and my mind is ready only then to get it ready to explode.  And here I am can't reach you can't touch you if I could get one of my hands into one of my pockets I don't think I have any more anecdotes left in there.  And how about you?"
"I used to be told that I'd go deaf if I continued to listen to my music too loud as well.  And they were right and I don't give a shit because what am I missing that I had to hear from them and anybody else?  They wanted me to make even better use of the inheritance we'd been given until I looked at my hands at my fingers and how thick and dirty they were as if it was my idea.  What am I missing going deaf with my music?  I'm not missing a damned thing of their going on and on about my imagination and exaggerating things damned things my bedroom growing up was piled with things damned things an inheritance of blame.  What am I missing going deaf with my music?  Getting out to what?  Nature always had a dry silence for me.  And we thought we were going places when we said those two words."
"Who'd have thought we'd end up in this place?  At least we're home."
"Home?"
"Or something resembling home.  Never mind.  It's the caffeine withdrawal."
"How long do you think you can keep using that excuse?"
"As long as the symptoms last."
"And how long do you think you can keep using that as an excuse?"
"As long as my neurons keep chirping the logic of that's that."
"And how long do you think your neurons will keep chirping?"
"As long as I can still hear that little bit of air escaping from your mouth that resembles when you used to laugh at my jokes."
"I used to laugh when you used to use the excuse of having said something nonsensical because you panicked.  Now you have to convince yourself that my sound of irritation resembles laughter."
"Or that this place resembles home."
"Resembles.  Does it get harder to convince yourself?"
"Sometimes.  And sometimes its easier and sometimes its harder.  Too stuck to even go through the motions."
"I once thought I heard that sound like water running and I felt this rush go through me because it was like I thought I had left the sprinkler on as if I really had and then I thought as if I really could just declare leave the water running it's so dry out there it'll never be enough just keep gulping it up disappearing and then I think I hear voices talking as if its people in a break room at work talking about other people as if its a TV show of people talking about other people talking about a TV show and then I think as if it really was a gardening show and then I think about the water running again and how dry it is out there gulping it up absorbing it away disappearing even though I still think I hear that sound of water and maybe its outside or inside me until I almost fell asleep when they left this section alone and moved on for a while too short a while until I could hear them come back with their bug legs scratching until I feel their abdomen by my head like you do like I do until it's neither what's on the inside or the outside that counts."


Dragged kicking and screaming was thrown from a window  nailed into a picture frame banging its head against cavity walls disposed of rejected and expelled from sentenced to crushed into a space too big for its blood to stay in one place a course in tragedies extorted and appropriated into a line a narrow passage that stretched for breath after breath nonsense was at the window how did the view get trifled with too late to be left alone too late to be left.  That is not that is not dust but the dried guts of a bug the only thing they could be correct anyone about if they were given the opportunity and they never weren't that is not dust and they never weren't.

Not fit for a couch not even fit for how they couched their fits time has been shot into the skin like flakes of cereal soaked with grape juice the experiment of a child the beginning of the familiar odor of failure to permeate every piece of clothing out in the streets and up close under the nose dangling from the top of the brain tortured in the private narrow suffocating bedroom pressing issues someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft its time to look ahead straight ahead at the towels on the wall of the elevator blocking the controls towels unwashed towels the room is heading straight down the down button someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft.


- Max Stoltenberg








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