Break the bonds with more bonds still to fray, as you are gone only this day, of which no time remains. Because now is yesterday, and forty seconds become sculpted as years of clay, as now i speak, now i scream and whisper the same. As we file through these fractions, all the while we fill the blanks and say, spelling out our arguments with underlined words and punctuation. I exclaim as you refrain, become pixelated in your face, water buckets in the well, swimming, we detain. Chiseling our quarries still, fills me with much disdain, I am spoken, from whispers I refrain as points and abbreviations come to claim. I am you but where are we, as filled with eternal marble debris, pious porn impeccable peach by which we are beseeched. Still I look on feather quills with weathered eyes of where to be, what's to come, and what's to say, because for you now is yesterday.
By the vibrate formed irate swallowed senseless form of guilt.
Wallowed up inside the duct tape scraping at the mouth.
Your face is pixelated, silent echoes are reverberated.
Icicles anticipated with spaghetti on the brain.
Parched in pieces, spare but one penny for my jar.
So I know that soon we will conclude, just as this spice still eludes
I am me and you are you and reversal of us
plus two is sure to never make it through, sidewinding seven zeroes, equals my embrace.
Up to par, we are far, hours of pennies in my jar, a chance, I may have this dance, with some sergeant sold, and spent.
Take a second out for goodness' sake as into the glass the copper breaks, as I am last in line again, you are third, as we combine the word. Vocals become text as I was last, now I'm next fulfilling backbones bent and spines tangled, the wires of our brains become a mangled mess as we are transported telepaths through squares and dare not ask why. The filaments fry, embossed with curves and scents that cost us cells.
You tell us so much of what's inside your spaghetti's recipe and such, from the place that has been carved out of your maple face, grains I trace in ellipses on their axes. Converted mixed and sniffled rosemary, a rhombus hazel craze of 'hope'. Tourist, why did you underline navel, put a dot next to a less than sign. These sine wave ripples never end, frequencies of the LFO's bend, we all follow the robot trend, desensitized from hours as they turn to seconds.
See you tomorrow in five years, dive into the blue planet with open ears, see you in Venus' hollow sphere, contrived, a castle, forlorn to hear.
-2008 performance piece.. "HERE IS THERE"