Friday, December 4, 2015


If I recall and if I cannot it would be a pressed point ironed on a board flung across the room in the same complex where they cut back on those on those if I recall and if I cannot it would be a pressed point ironed out on what she would say was her last chance for him which was over much sooner much earlier than he was willing to admit he already knew realized in his sleep that interrupted overwrote his plans his agenda his itinerary for the bacon sneezing up that ass far up between fire escapes overlooking that thin parking lot in the back where the tumbleweeds had their meetup to discuss phrases that dissolved in their mouths and not on their steno pads where they could take it out on each other trying to make it work if you will and you will cover the planet in the shroud of your hypocrisy bent on orbiting around my looping thoughts just to make sure they don't wander too far from the passenger seat made for passenger seat polishing this ass this wrinkled expanding rumpled ass excusing itself for another thumbing your nose at images from one to the other and returning to face the next line of discourse the next corner to turn and if I recall and if I cannot I cannot and that is that so they they never show up not here somewhere away from the drain clogged with whatever smells like that the hushing through the glass of the window this cold ear sticking for the winter to the dead inside my bandana stinking of whatever has that drain stagnating like a gut underneath that heart ready to stuff that gasoline drenched scarf down your throat and light up your dark places with incendiary remarks and that is going to leave it as is.  Can't cannot block that call from the man standing on the roof of that car red looks like some burgundy remember drinking that bottle of that stuff we got at that party well it wasn't quite a party some going away for someone we hardly not because we weren't long enough and we're there long enough we just didn't acknowledge her enough and now we admit in this empty room all empty except for the screws laying on their sides that we actually don't give didn't give a shit and we keep telling them our cover story that we already gave at the office not anywhere anyone would remember but in a better spot maybe like the one over there where people forget what happens because they don't give much of a shit to look over that way there over there where people forget what happens. And we lie lay somewhere between the cats that the world is made for and the feral cats that the indignant that the world is not made for anything resembling the leaning more towards where the red needle leans against the unhelpful rocking in the gutter spitting out the last pieces of vomited samples and we lie lay somewhere between the cats that the world is made for because it is not made for us or maybe it is has been all along bought and paid for waiting for us to fuck up and house us again and again returning thinner and thinner grayer and grayer until we lie lay somewhere our sweating heads dripping with madness.

- Max Stoltenberg

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