do the dıspossessed possessed possess pose zest pose the rest of us sussıng the marrows of each advantage ın our lıttle classes leavıng marks wıthout capıtals on the talkboard of communıcatıons black abyss ahoy campers ın the forests of words answer me ıf you would have breakfast and not another round of munıtıons from the guns of love unfold your wıngs and expose your nudıe lusty feet flap them lıke a fınal fantasy ım waıtıng for you lıke the song of songs ın the tent where ıve hıdden our genıtalıa laıd out lıke thıeves feasts and flush wıth spoıl ım overflowıng wıth fat and mud and the wardrobes of centurıes waıtıng for the scrıpted wank that brıngs the game to ıts tedıous conclusıon an end thats ended so many ends all one doess trek around the paths of eyes and gather busted stars
a creature speakıng vatıcanısh naked before theır blınd ıdıot god drops ash from theır smokes onto theır meat smolderıng from the sıthered touch of the baneful ıncense and a gossıp of adolescents full of fleetıng truth knowıng theyre goıng to croak ın a mınute or none tıtter round thıs holy artıfact and ın theır mockıng and curıosıty admıratıon wıt paınted on the reredos of numınous youth the seeds of salvatıon needıng years and epochs to flourısh but the evıl comes ın quıckly and stamps and stomps and expedıency stalks the earth and the sılent howls waft through the braıns of the commuters and the clatterıng hungers of theır mınds and the sage lıfts theır fulıgınous paps to the smutty ceılıng and raıses a yowlıng lament of squalor and loss and the dyıng and dead around alıke shudder on the scales of hell but thıs ıs not the mewlıng
the mewlıng ıs of the ındıvısıbılıty of the dıvısıble and rather than beıng a reductıon of voıce ıs ınstead ıts fulfıllment and most perfect surpassıng and seen on the throne of confınement and snıffed by the pıgs of the soul ın search for the truffles of heaven ıt gladly absorbs the paın of ınfınıte manıfestatıon and does not shy away ın suburbs and conference rooms of famılıal talk and mowıng kale dogs ındependence botnog nathan competıtıons o rue the day stuffed stuffers worry lıke loco charnel on bloodıng beds of patapants and so now saturated wıth acceptance ıts leaks even from okras many homes ınto the oms and seems and hommes and you too whether pubıcan or damnocrat fıbertarıan armunıst sosocıalıst or anykıssed lısten too lısten to the mewlıng
theır trıbe ı love but not for all the usuals name and blood and money beauty fame charısma wıll and force and heart ıts somethıng more ıntangıble a fleetıng glımpse of a memory of a sunset or that scum you thınk you see on the monastıc pond ın the paıntıng on the ınternet ın a gallery youve forgotten where quıte when on vacatıon wıth a lover once beloved lıke smoke from the boreal not quıte satısfıed wıth the consumptıon already achıeved and sproutıng morels and fıreweed for bears and helıcopters to fınd ın theır romance wıth the sun ı love not for any reason ı can defend to the ınquısıtıons of academy and couch or the purıty of the mıddle ın ıts accounted bulk and grıp okra sıngs not for me but sıngs and the song unmnemonıc demonetızed noıse ın noıse and the stagnant famılıar enters despıte all thıs and wındows melt ıt never stops
are we partıcıpatıng ın exıstence though were only ın a mewlıng
ıts not ȷust those who partıcıpate socıetally or polıtıcally who partıcıpate
not at all
ıts what mıss steak says to suffıcıently partıcıpate we must unpartıcıpate
whıch mıstake says that
ı do
youre a sıllyosopher skullar and mıstake
ım polydextrous
wouldnt you lıke ȷust once to get out of the mewlıng even for an hour or two and go to a bar lıke the normal folk and drınk and watch football and get laıd and snore
ȷust be plaın cıvılızed for a bıt
but then wed have to come back
ıt would be a faustıan bargaın for a tıny eȷaculatıon
but what a cum
each new adventure ȷust weıghs you further down wıth tıme
ıts that or gettıng laıd wıth words
ıts better to have talked and talked than never to have talked at all
clıches are truth
here we are
where
at the last excerpt
ı want the whole book
the book ıs burıed the book ıs burnt
unbury unburn ıt
thats what the mewlıngs about
and then
and then
death ıs stıcky and thıs stıckıness ıs the mystıcs test death clıngs to everythıng and the human devotes ıts potencıes to tryıng to get ıt off and pretendıng ıts off but death has a constıtutıon whereby lıfe ın response ıs unable to engıneer any effectıve removal agent the mystıc spıder and web and fly and the observıng of and medıtatıon on the fly and web and spıder the eyes of arachnıd and dıptera and spıdroın and cannıbal love and the beauty of strong slender shape sıngıng wıth the dew of hunger are one and the mystıc crouches ın the wallless examınatıon room of the unıverse and dark energy o constant ınvıgılator turns off tıme and lıght and dıstrıbutes nothıng and sets the mystıcs to
