Not open not opening for today not open not opening for yesterday not open not opening for tomorrow busted got busted into these clothes it all came out flooded them with that that's not why they're called that flooded them with shit from all this crap comes back to dress you in a sticky reeking humanity breathe and then tell yourself not open not opening for today not open not opening for yesterday do you don't not open not opening for today when don't shut up crack the keyboard across your knee across your face as you move away and ruin it that's how you ruined it don't go don't shut the fuck up hassles handled by another department fill out the request and take it up with them when they are ready to let you take it up with them when they're ready bury you under staff dirt treated like dirt buried never sent us that shovel cut up into today, yesterday, and tomorrow.
Lean forward lean back which way it falls it falls you override protection a wanting left wanting left wanting to leave to go to leave to stop to stay and go with it hand in hand buttoning and re-buttoning on and off can't read what you which way it falls it falls you want to be read can't read it even though what it spells spells what makes no sense goes together into a see through wall see through smiles seeing through seeing it through to the to the lean forward lean back and turn to the to the lean lean can't read what you which it falls it falls you want to be read can't read it even though what it spells spells what makes no sense goes together into a see through wall see through smiles seeing through this thinner than gnats on an exhausted table they sure do create some thick lines though.
He took off his headphones and then put the headphones back on and thought of hallways hooked onto tunnels plugged into trains under the ground somewhere else none of those in the desert where he lost his have it in a minute give him a minute where he misplaced some type of ball he'd thrown it down anyway even though it didn't bounce it sure had given him that almost drunken feeling almost lasted while it rushed past him hurried out taking the rest of his memories isn't that what you wanted who was I talking to?
"This makes 4 and officially a pattern," said Barsky trying to set up another desk he had found and realizing it had only 3 legs as he watched it fall over with a thud.
"Are you going to still count that with it not being intact?" asked Noosh grimacing as he looked down at the toppled desk.
"I'm not going to do it," said Barsky looking around for a possible desk in some tall blight.
"So, that's your decision. You're not going to count that last one," said Noosh rummaging through a cluttered image in his mind of snotty tissues of lies.
"I'm not going to make any more observations or associations," said Barsky continuing to poke at a thorn he had not been able to remove from his left thumb.
"I doubt it and I've spent most of my life explaining what I was doing under a lampshade," said Noosh moving out from the center of the cluttered image in his mind of snotty tissues of lies to nowhere near the outer edge of the cluttered image in his mind of snotty tissues of lies.
"I find myself responding to your expulsion of gas disguised as a comment sooner than I expected my body to be decaying in the desert," said Barsky tapping his right foot on the ground to the syllables of tic-tac-toe.
"Are these school desks?" asked Noosh returning to the one with three legs as his most recent nightmare re-emerged from the muck accumulated on his cranial rim.
"You're just noticing that?" asked Barsky in astonishment and in the latest version of limbo.
"Your hair moved a little bit," observed Noosh tightening his left fist and imagining dirt trying to escape until he looked out at what was around them.
"Are you going to make a feeble reference to the ever elusive woman?" asked Barsky studying the carvings in the school desk.
"No, I was going to make a feeble reference to the ever elusive breeze," said Noosh contemplating what manner of insect life lurked in Barsky's head of hair or head.
"I think I'm being bugged," said Barsky scratching his head.
"Don't be paranoid," said Noosh convinced he witnessed another part of Barsky's hair move including some tiny legs and perhaps a wing attempting to struggle to the surface.
"Maybe I could use this opportunity to exploit this technology," said Barsky ceasing his scratching and gesturing with his right hand the operation of some past machine.
"Technology? We have each other to exploit," said Noosh pointing to himself and then Barsky and then reversing his gesturing and as he started again he let his arms drop to his sides and stood there quiet and confused.
"I haven't the energy," said Barsky rubbing his fingernails in the carvings of the school desk.
"What are you doing?" asked Noosh after he lifted his bloody right foot that had stepped through the abstract painting lying on the ground next to the overturned ceramic bowl that once held the organic breakfast cereal eaten every morning by the custodian who died of bowel cancer.
"Purple," said Barsky.
"I don't think I've ever had a favorite color. Favorite numbers. That's what I used to hear people talk about when I was young and ductile. I don't think anyone has ever asked me for my favorite color. A sign of the times," said Noosh tossing aside a fortune from a fortune cookie that read: Things will be less nauseous for you in bed.
"It looks like it reads see how purple your something can get and then there's what looks like a phone number or is it an illustration of what they're trying to oh that's what they're getting at," said Barsky.
"Or getting off," quipped Noosh, "why is 4 officially a pattern?"
"I like squares," said Barsky trying to remember what came after the monitor checked into her hotel room and heard a strange conversation through the wall in the bathroom.
"I always liked trapezoids but no one ever asked me. A sign of the times," said Noosh unable to empty his skull of the stark rooms and various shapes of tables he was asked those questions.
"More a sign of your unpopularity," said Barsky.
"Does anyone remember?" asked Noosh.
"Remember what?" asked Barsky.
"Doesn't matter," said Noosh.
"Doesn't matter because you don't remember?" asked Barsky.
"That, too, but, also because it just occurred in fact it's been on my mind for quite some time. Is there still an anyone?" asked Noosh.
"Is that why we paired up to have someone else's dying brain to accompany us through this waste?" asked Barsky.
"I thought we formed pairs to pull away from the anyone else and their tables the shapes of their tables," said Noosh.
"You and your virtual extinctions. You suffer from the indelible prior experience of being thrown under the bus by those who recruited you to help them sift through their latest draft of anyone else and now you must wander and continue the sifting in your head," said Barsky.
"Never felt like I was stuck in a virtual reality just stuck in front of one. Now that I've been dislodged out the backstage door like an obstinate turd my lot is to be behind one trying to catch up," said Noosh.
"This carving says: My life is a half-lit shitshow," read Barsky losing hold of the three-legged school desk as it thudded back onto the dirt.
"Before he was killed by a corn planter, this gentleman told me how he would go shit-skiing by holding on to the tails of cows and let them drag him along," said Noosh.
"He should be pretty pleased with himself for putting this that way," said Barsky.
"He's dead. Did you hear me mention that part or were you too far up your own ass?" asked Noosh annoyed.
"I know. I'm just saying that he kind of captures it for me that's all," said Barsky.
"In order to gain some traction you have to lose some traction," muttered Noosh.
"And I'm too far up my own ass," said Barsky.
In a school desk
pages and pages
tuning cuts up into skin
don't tell me why you think why
the years not made out of days
only trick questions
rusting in daydreams
- Max Stoltenberg