"I'm not paying anyone any more compliments anymore."
"How could you?"
"How could I?"
"Yeah, how could you?"
"How could I what?"
"How could you pay?"
"I can't even turn my pockets out. They've been ripped out or fallen away."
"To poke their collapsed faces out by your ankles and shaken away as you kick out your legs kicking out whatever else you have hanging around still in there dislodged when you shake a leg so to speak."
"So to speak. And while I'm at it I may as well include that I might as well not open my mouth any more. It just might dislodge whatever stupidity I've been suppressing all these hours or minutes. Holding my breath feeling my ears throb and knowing the stagnant water of life will come flooding back into my head carrying with it your replies your replies that happen to have made their way to the top of the nearest bin others have been digging through and shuffling around the same 5 or 6 replies doesn't even seem that many."
"Has to be more than that."
"What makes you so sure?"
"There's the one about the 3 failures looking through bins themselves and what would you think of that?"
"How come you never seem to fall over standing in that manner?"
"What manner?"
"Without your toes touching the ground."
"You're becoming deficient in yet another area."
"Maybe, but look how your toes are lifted up like that. Can't you feel the strain in your little muscles down there or has that gone extinct?"
"You're raving and tangential."
"Logarithmic you mean."
"Not even, however, if you do need to go just crack a window."
"I thought you scrawled that onto your list of sanctions after what I did to my hand."
"I did but when it comes to being able to breathe I have to make some exceptions. Irregularities for the irregular, you know and you would know. What a bloody mess you made."
"When it comes down to not wanting to breathe and the loss of blood being in pursuit of accomplishing one's emptiness can't even go all the way and bleed to death. Wasn't a total loss unfortunately haven't bothered to getting around to clearing the threads out of the sink."
"Loss of bone, too. I think I stepped on a piece of one of your knuckles."
"I thought it was 2 failures."
"Last I checked it was 3 failures. Standing around bins."
"Thought this was based on us."
"Nothing is based on us. What were you thinking?"
"The usual."
"The unusual you mean. One of them has made quite a mound of things in his bin so that a considerable section of crap topples over the edge. He decides to sit on the ground next to the spillage and take another excavative look at his initial rejections."
"Which one of them?"
"I'm getting to that."
"No, I mean which one of the failures is doing this sits on the ground with his spillage?"
"The first or the second. Who cares?"
"Sitting down on the ground with his spillage. The whole thing is beginning to sound like some metaphoric exercise in self-stimulation."
"Actually it was the third chap failure that is."
"The third one failure that is?"
"Yes, can I get back to the spillage?"
"Now it wouldn't be the third failure after all if you had stuck to only 2 and made it more based on us. That's me saying this. Me the one who cares. That's who cares."
"I thought you stopped caring."
"I did. You just can't remember."
"Because you keep coming out of fucking retirement."
"Not the overarching stuff. I gave that up for good the last time we almost got caught trying to fill in the gaps in our wardrobe at the laundromat. It's just the trivial shit I come out for."
Harnessing spit backing up into the face where it has its potential for misgivings read that wrong passing through doorways and stopping in one of them got a belt loop caught on a missed gesture not missed didn't miss a thing couldn't possibly respond with that clay pressed to form something that would be called lips lowering under the upper shelf of the refrigerator dark and empty like the hallways of school walking around as they stretch further apart think no one to see the face being made think clay pressed to form something that would be called lips lowering under the upper shelf of the refrigerator dark and empty like the hallways of school walking around as they stretch further apart thought that was a grade a voice somewhere in the walls down the hallway further on saying a grade whispering it or shouting it far away.
"The third bloke failure is sitting there next to his spillage on the ground."
And there was a pause.
"Go on."
"You're looking at me like a dog I came upon out near an abandoned substation."
And there was a pause.
"And how did he look at you?"
"She."
"How did she look at you?"
"Like I was going to take everything that troubled me out on her."
And there was a pause.
"And are you going to take everything that troubled you out on me?"
"Troubles. Everything that troubles me. Currently. More has accumulated since then."
And there was a pause.
"And are you going to take everything that troubles you out on me?"
And without a pause, he answered.
"I haven't decided yet."
And without a pause, she put to him another question.
"What kind of dog was she?"
"Are you inquiring about my dog or about my wife?"
"You never had a wife."
"We were married in spirit."
"You never had a spirit."
"That's true. And you never had one either."
"Dispossessed we are. I remember I was invited when I was a child to another kid's birthday party. I think his name was Erik."
"Erika."
"Erika, that's right. You do have a good memory."
"It only seems that way because yours is so atrocious."
"I practice my forgetting due to all the insults."
"You pull them out of the contaminated and distended lake of your unconscious when it suits you."
"No matter the overcast haze of affirmations I have received, the teeth marks of invective come to mind more easily for some reason."
"Some reason."
"The third failure dug into his spillage of prior rejections and pulled out a poem."
"It wasn't a poem. Let me tell it."
"And the poem was an adaptation of an illness."
"No poetry. Let me tell it. You'll ruin it."
"That's why I'm here. The deformed block sticking conspicuously out of the hole in this part of the world. Before you wore out the last pair of shoes you ever had you used to hammer another verse out of me."
She hung
She hung his picture
She hung his picture of his hanging
Where it hung
until he was dead
where he hung
in the halls of his mind
where he hung
in his picture of his hanging
where she hung
hung his picture of his hanging
where it hung
from the scaffolding
of her mind
where she hung
herself
only
in her mind
"I seem to recall that we used to imagine we were staying for a night at a hotel."
"I thought we were in a hotel."
"You're imagining things."
"What? Do you think this place isn't a hotel?"
"A burned out one."
"Burned out? Us or the hotel?"
"Both. What a pair. Now can I get back to the 3 failures?"
And there was a pause again. Somewhat like the one 2 pauses back being the antepenultimate also known as the third one from the end.
"What did they find in their spillage?"
"Not poetry I can tell you if you let me tell it."
"Spillage. That still sounds wrong or third rate at best."
"I think you're just unwilling to admit your own stimulation."
"I am peripherally aroused."
"Do tell."
"I try to keep you in the corner of the whites of my own eyes. It's a security precaution. You do understand?"
"Entirely. Offense taken. There was a party in that spillage."
"I'm sure there was. Behind every party is a spillage. I mean, behind every spillage is a party of some sort. Just as the birthday party I was invited to."
"Either way."
"As a child."
"At this party one of the women there noticing that it seemed as if more than half the people had left she took it upon herself to clean up. What appeared as less than half of the people who remained in a stupor standing there like the damaged pillars of a storm-battered boardwalk began to slowly converge on the woman with the excessive amounts of drinks and food. Down the drain, please! she would bellow as they took turns standing before her. And the night thickened to the sound of her voice instructing Down the drain, please!"
Harnessing spit backing up into the face where it has its potential for misgivings read that wrong passing through doorways and stopping in one of them got a belt loop caught on a missed gesture not missed didn't miss a thing couldn't possibly respond with that clay pressed to form something that would be called lips lowering under the upper shelf of the refrigerator dark and empty like the hallways of school walking around as they stretch further apart think no one to see the face being made think clay pressed to form something that would be called lips lowering under the upper shelf of the refrigerator dark and empty like the hallways of school walking around as they stretch further apart thought that was a grade a voice somewhere in the walls down the hallway further on saying a grade whispering it or shouting it far away.
"I was invited to this birthday party when I was a child by another kid in my neighborhood named Erik."
"Erika."
"Erika. And his family."
"Her family."
"And her family had invited this clown. He had his own television show and I was freaked out when they turned on their set and he appeared in it. I thought we were going to each get transported into the television set and I was wondering when I would be next when I got the hint they were trying to take a picture of Erik with the clown."
"Erika."
"Erika and the clown were posing for a picture. I stood there and faced the clown looking at his colors. I thought he had a really big hat until I felt how big his feet his shoes were when one of them kicked me away out of the picture. I found it easier to live in a kennel than a home. I could turn my back on it all. They'd shake me out of the box to get my attention my attention to them and where it was really devoted? To finding the corners. That's where they wanted me anyway so they could go about their business paying no attention so the pet could adjust to its new setting. My setting where it belonged out of the picture."
she always said "use two hands" for what? for this? on ahead for the shadow moves on over the road shoving shoving like a tractor shoving like a tractor the blurry light off further out of getting to only the shadow shoving shoving like a tractor shoving like a tractor the blurry light blurry and gloppy rubbing both of these cruddy eyes with the other hand trying to get the whatever out of these cruddy eyes lids with the red lumps coming back again again gloppy eyes gloppy light shoved by the shadow shoved by the shadow covering the road shoving shoving like a tractor shoving like a tractor the gloppy blurry light off further out of getting to only the shadow shoving shoving.
she always said "use two hands"
for what?
- Max Stoltenberg
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