The development around from the how things were developing testing the dirt the gravel brought by foot by the foot underfoot testing the dirt worse than expected that is this is not true talked about this discussed this preparation for the worst or worse than that actually actually say that while you while I move my fingers like this like little worms just waiting to attack my eyes have to get through the glasses first no lost those a ways back ways back back then had more ways now there is only one way the long way round the middle of the blind entertainment and its sayings about how blind it is when there was a desk between us the performance capacity was abnormally boundless pouring out and forth over the belt keeping pants a sick trunk I wave my cup where did it go got up it did when you spoke too much and too loudly plosive articulation firing in all directions between us the performance capacity was abnormally boundless pouring out and forth over the belt whipped against the glass of the window taped to the dark stars sinking into an imagination stabbed hundreds of times doing the math no favors no nipples no mouths sewn with silent waffling.
"Who are you talking to?" asked Shrillage.
"No one," said Deskman.
"You were saying something."
"I thought you were ignoring what I was saying."
"I was. I was really trying and then you have been going on and on of late. You hadn't before that, but started up again of late."
"Of late. Yes, yes, I have. Took another crack at it. That's been my problem a terminal ability of not being able to stay resigned. One time I caught myself looking up at a ceiling and then I thought about all the times I looked up at ceilings when I started out not knowing where I was disoriented and all. Then I thought about all the places I spent so much time stuck in familiar with and sick of and how I could can never recall what those ceilings looked like bland tents of meeting."
"And now we have no ceiling at all except for sunless days."
"A thinning towel separating us from the kiln of the void."
"What did I say?"
"I have no idea. Something about sunless days."
"No, to start things off."
"I don't think it was anything you said. Bombardment of some sort or other. Bacteria from a meteor. What's it called?"
"Sounds like a non-stick birth control."
"We're both confounding variables of birth control."
"But we're quite stuck."
"Just can't seem to locate the off-ramp. What I was asking about is what did I say later on?"
"You said that it wasn't what it looked like and besides CPR dummies have no lower half."
"Not that. Earlier today."
"Was there an earlier today? I got up late."
"I got up late as well. Doesn't happen very often."
"Was that rain? I felt some drops on my arm."
"That was me unclogging my nose. What did I say to start off this latest bit?"
"Latest bit of what?"
"Is that what this is?"
"At least it has the wrackful aspects of one. That's what I tell myself."
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I want to know what I said so then I'll know what you said and then I can make a pathetic claim that I've been maintaining some loose greasy hold on who I am."
"I feel greasy too."
"Maybe you are a non-cohesive contraceptive after all."
"Contradiction you mean."
"Is that how you pronounce it?"
"What we've been saying is non-cohesive."
"That makes sense."
"That makes a plop splash in my skull."
Because I said because I said
because you said because you said
Caught me in it caught me in it
of the used banana peel
dried from the Sun's disgust
flaming spit into the wind
sliced with the blades of exasperation
rays of cloud shooting through
it to the increased vector falling backwards its a hose got in your way always got in your way and now I'm gone or you are gone I'm the contraction you are gone and I'm left with the contractions when further apart or closer together make a lot of empty space to be lost didn't say it last time the last time was it was that when it was went unspoken you wanted to know and he wanted to know what was said and now that I'm thinking about it because I'm the contraction and I'm left with the contractions when further apart or closer together make a lot of empty space to be lost didn't say it last time the last time was it was that when it went unspoken you wanted to know and he wanted to know what was said and now that I'm thinking about it because I'm thinking about it now it's not a matter of what was said but who was said and they went away with who was said much uglier than when they entered mirrors ironed their faces charred reflections they went away with who was said much uglier than when they entered as they exit out of doors no longer there there that's what you get with a desert.
"Put it down. Put it down now," demanded Deskman.
"Put down what? When was the last time you've seen me with a prop?" asked Shrillage quite outraged or bordering on outraged.
"Put down the psychology you've been using on me."
"And without a license."
"I fulfilled all the requirements."
"Was it worth it?"
"Not really. I let that balloon float away and vanish."
"Then I was not mistaken."
"More like cliches."
"Psychology is nothing but cliches repackaged re-wrapped to pass by your brain like a syndicated curriculum stringing the same line of duller colored bulbs around the gutters of your head goading you to spin yourself around like a childish overgrown lummox faking it until you make it to being impressed with the repeating cartoon backgrounds."
"My uncle once had a friend who wanted to be a tutor and he thought it would be a good idea to let him practice on me at no charge. And after a week or so of lessons he stopped me while I was trying to explain something or other and he looked me in the eyes and said, If I could teach you to relax I would feel like I could make a difference. You don't have to be so earnest. I get it. You're not a phony. You just need to find where you fit. And since then I've found that I don't fit anywhere. I am authentically at the bottom spilled out onto the desert after all that fighting along the surface tension of the machine of existence."
Tested untested tested untested a corner poking the wrist pushing it in squatting on a corner poking the wrist pushing it in the music is over dim bulbs of notes crushed into bubbles polluted filled in tested untested tested untested a corner poking the wrist pushing it in squatting on a corner poking the wrist pushing it in the music is over dim bulbs she was up in the tree had climbed the branches thick obscured what who she was no trees around here.
- Max Stoltenberg