(from Anthology, Red Kite Production, https://www.scribd.com )
your retarded. the summer of the returning ring. nameless sucking fog. then we kissed in the dark. his ring of warm, butt in the air for the sole reason to trick me. humming along the coldness of the night lick, few of the boys had already left the city, back to the run. distant sun of the bold yellow dust. hope and rewarded. the visitor. the claim. the boxing ring killing into the sameness of the knocks, vast amount of retribution. brown beige and the neck of the fun. howling street. nightmare upsetting the uneasy. bitching hours of the unsure. he spitted the red into the blood. fire from the burn. the singular mess. heat
fun of the few holes, his undefeated season. he an-nounced the coming. home view for the strongest. i knocked it down. butterfly and flame drinking moth. sunless delayed. deliciously contested. the song in his eyes was dancing in hush, flowing into the river of leaves, golden of the bell. huffing the dragon breath. yours and the delinquents. i nameless sucked. beans and the cornhusk field. the stream of winter. the ice cut of the glass, fogged in divided. long and the rapture. his batch of dishonor. botched define. he hided behind the wellness masculinity. he walked. both of his hands were inside the front pockets of the jeans. meaning untaken. over the sky of the summer he asked for one more time but i refused. hand for the unapproachable. the eyes of the killer, instinctively withdrawn when the focus became unbearable. he who asked the question but unwilling to know. the feeling. hope for the country afternoon awaked. earned dollar for the realness of the information. haft past demur. the keeper was closing the gate. bountiful trip into the unknown, destroying the restlessness of the unkempt. high nouns into the pitiful verbs. insidious veil. some of the boys walked past the midnight post, chunking the realm of the passing, water pouring in, and the blue of the head. faceless loud the real. then he sat down. no longer in stay of the stars, all falsely ac-cused. all in retreat into the world of the unfate. chaos untouchable. how did it happen we cared not longer knew. thus a few would continued to sur-
vive. the wholesome blue, few drops into the ocean the water decided, hissing for the tale of the old face. haft dusted long fingers and the realness sharp, cutting into the flesh of the divine. his kiss was in-definable. the hip moving into vines, the lines of the lips. the cut throat decision that condemned his dream. the meaningless taste of the ox. the cow. the dung. the fungus. the maggot. and the ant. mes-senger in load of beats. eyes on the returning. si-lence silent silence sight. t the continuation of the defeated. the longest run. hope was divided into pieces of trust, no longer deferrable. no longer in need. i had met his contentment, at the sameness trap. the cut in the stone. the vein shape. heat and pouring sun, veins unattached. how the fun was taken out of the game before we even participated. done for the real of finishing the sentence. the handle of the cup. rug in of repair. country disen-franchisement. leaves of the road. the last fall. the sun and the members. the hole. the rip. the ventur-ous knight. home for trust. ruff fighters. the king had left the court. touching the cloud for missing the light, fucking kiss. the role he had played. the small need of the back, the muscle in revolt. both eyes were shut. his index finger was empty. his es-cape. the letter and the pen. hope and no faith. dove in disguise. the joint. the cap. bones crushed in to-gether of the ruin. faithless leap. the fate. the face. the fact. the fantasy and fossils. the focus. the fame. fucking fuck fuck. forever. for the long to be cut
off, his demand became more and more passion-ate. he curled his tongue. fighting against the grains of the wood, face lust border life, and the living. all just fostered along the steam. mostly the lust in his eyes that gave away. he could not escaped the role. he tried, but contained by the desire of the return-ing summer. heat and repeated measure of memo-ries. the strange land of the locusts. the far dusty sunset moment in refuse. more or less the sun ejected its own strait of dire. virtual particles of the light defused. the most he could fathomed was my existence within the grab of the hands. he had no intention to proceed. the room was almost melting into the karma of the run, pulling along the unex-pected desire of the vultures. all for the somber blue light. liquid lake and falling leaves. the road led to nowhere, with cancerous revival of the structure. i let him rested on my arms for a while. cold sweat delayed the raining of the small shut. however the color of the flower was. madness in the train. hold-ing the future of inexistence. we had to curse to get the door closed. the kite of the sun. broke ass peas-ants. the light outside the window began to break, open a promise of a new dawn. his body was soak-ing wet. dreaming the lake of the mountain still, tree green for the weather beaten. the anthology. the list. the names. the color. and the rose. fine in-ner vision of the quietness touch. hiding behind the curtain of time. the sobriety of the culture. the last-ing version of the poor and the unfortunate. i could
not even used the chair or the table in the room. we managed to lock ourselves in and just declared the deed against the outside order. he hugged his feet when i pulled. the smoke in his eyes became more visible, clouding the stirring musk. red red red red red, and fire. the slow rhyming of the dance, clap-ping clutches of the hands, betraying steps. touched his feel and the lightening strike of the ice. coordi-nating vectors forming the plane for the raining to crash. earthless kingdom. the souless sun. killing vice for the pleasure to defect. the ego ghost. fight-ing victim and the faceless name. enemy of the state. the country in decline. fate less desirable with the name beaten into the yolk. boneless spine. the merciless husband. name of the dying rose. the rose. less in face. holiday for the no necks. grabbed, kicked, then pulled. finding the ruthless kick of the butterfly wings, utmost and invisible motion. the hunter obscure. the void sublet. hot and destitute. room to leave before the sunrise came. liar club. the boss of the untamed. fear striking street. name-less desire and the moment of distilled laughers. nut and bolt. vindictive spy hosting a group of for-eign studs. each to the side of the unwise moon. the coolness of the heart. the lusty glance he threw at me when we first met. roles lightly applied. he re-jected the idea that i was an aristocrat. he knew. the clown had to sit down on the bank, along side with the rest of the pall carriers. the rest of his body was soaking with the soft sepia light of lazy after-
noon, vast amount of destruction seeping into the flesh, biting into the skin. language if we used could be the first words he uttered in silence, none had to determination of the human race. some of the facts he used even had no nouns or adjectives in them, just poor verbs and sample conjunctions. obituaries view of the truly beautiful work: the liar king. hush hush the shameless butterfly. beating the sun with each stroke into the wind of change, flirted with disaster dust. the time stroke its bell. vastness of the river unwine, both keys left behind on the ledge. summing the columns and the vertigo. cut shot and destroyed. refusal and delayed. he just put his head on the floor, unfasten and loosely detached. earth host and messily clean. vectors in directions for-ward, to the yes land and the namely shit. cut off the ruin, and birth injected into the field. runaway groom. the role of the player. fixing stiff. unearth and undivine. best of the last. the use of his hands in dividing the food had its own rhyming of pur-pose, ripping off the bones for m the flesh, threw chunks of meat into his mouth. the finest hour. the sun shirts. the pack of his pants was pulled back exposing the ridge of the muscular bulging mass, two mounts of muscle. kind was the name of his proposal. funny how the tide was always turned in the direction of the land. the sandless each. the foggy morning misty rain, faceless horizon. on the day the groom arrived both the mother and the hus-band wept at front of the family altar, wishing that
they at least had passed away before the dishonor deed acquired. funny trick of the cold hush. all for the sing in the honey song. blooming defect. the deep savored the tangy refine, best to serve with dog fetch, the sigh of his doing waving the feetless sky, hushed to the violent effect; beaming against the neck of the old sun. few were to be detected. leaner year of youth. bonus lime tree. the burning on the cross. faith and devotion of the beheaded warrior, he breathed in the smoky cloud, daring coming of the sunless streets. finding the voice within, the humming face of the lotus. off with his masturbation, the habit of the bored. i wanted and then wished, the summer without definition. how ugly and how strange we both were, running with a pack of wolves. busted melody. the crankiest son. bubbling float of the drags, burning tears of the an-ger. hill moments in confused memories, learning to walk the walk of the dying mist, the oldest branch. haft of the troop and haft living men. the deploy movement. the left behind. the no name victims. the rats. mighty soldier king, victory in the hands whine the enemy laid down the weapons and kneel-ing facing north. kissed kiss sun back native free-dom. doom to the future. backstabbing monk. un-less we kissed. fun to the game. hope for the less, how we even cared to do anything. sun back burn-ing faceless neither strong. hunting back face mov-ing left, another night in the city. another tryst. quiet and unconsuming. home for the brave. the running
for the race, no need to win. each lied as the chil-dren of doom. each memorized the system without knowing the digits, feast for the loud mouth king. he nicely ejected. the roving eyes. boundless mess on the silver plate, hurt and anger, the lying face. coming soon... homeless moths. the shot to the mouth. the funny page. the monumental bulge. vi-cious lash of the tongue. face face face fucked. dog meat beautiful. the humming of the bird. the quiet green. shape of the fine mass, softest layer of the same. mindless done, virtual reality and the keeper of the safe, fitness of the vowel, bundle and box. however the face hurt, the cut of the ring in the way offered and desperation, buying for the coffee legs. lifted uneasy into the thin air of night, hunting for the language of the vulture, the soundless quick. some of this view was not projected into the light, high wide shut. hopeful and the wanting desire, the neediness of the want, facing the wishing death. from the space void of the quiet naming less and the base forming destruction and finding the inso-lent vast. how the dears had left the mountain. how the birds had flight into the night. hurting the sunless shine, bashing the skull. roughing mute dawn feath-ers, facing south. venting the short breath of his soft interior, he snapped. the rock bursting fling. shot rattling sound of the tail. the moving of the body. he snapped. and snapped. the burning. the cross. the metallic gleam. he rubbed his hands against his body, waiting for me to strike again. the rest of his
clothes was on the floor. he smoked air, breathing out the steam returning back to the vast state on under face, meeting the contour of emotion he just projected. redness of the green, damned feet crow. the sullen nod of an abandoned child. witnessing the language from a strange land. there was no face in the north. both of the voices were in fact inapprehensible. by products of the uneasy period. fortune in men’s eye. fun house effect. coughing out the streams of confusion, vicious baits. the struggle of the divine. the fuel between the rejected. nasty wall. the home he left behind. i was holding him. the subtle kiss. the tiny glint in the eyes. faith was best kept as a secret. we rustled, and felled face down. the spring of the bed made both irre-movable. the shredded clothes. the torn in his white underpants. moist crack. vomiting odor. burnt tongue. deadly calm of the morning waterfront. the pulling of the lake. this struck into the fume of the morning air. a whole city was asleep, buying time before the real dawn breaking out. bun beams wisely made friend with the rowdy streets. cold-ness unbecoming. lying in my arms he looked de-tached as ever. this piece of cold fuck i had brought in. the silence in his body was almost unbearable. the veins of a statue. coming howl for the passion-ate song. damned children of the trembling earth. kindness buying into the teeth of the future, uncon-cerned and unbothered. we were both on the same boat, leading to nowhere. facing the neither and the
nor; but no and never facing north. sun dream of the quivering. the thoughtless kid. the dreamer with-out a dream. foster child of the noble family. deep as shit. coward moments best kept inside the box. smoky cloud turning into an ocean of memories. the landscape the sea could never find. soft touch of the murmur. the vindication of the lashing. the cold backstroke. the slap of the hands. the butt of the joke. the shameful facing of the self. the ver-tigo. the complete fuck. the point of the needle. the bitch of the son. filthy room. crack house. the hunter’s left. song of the winter. the crowd that never stand up and applause. the closing of the eyes. he pulled his body in, clutching the shoulders; then he breathed out. hope faith and desire. the morning milling squad. hands tied behind back with eyes steering straight to the front. waiting to be executed. madness of the crowd, demanding the return of the royal regime. the burning of the flag. the stomping of the yard. rhyming with the beats of the hand-some cops. all eyes on the groom, especially me: the best man. sounding bell from deserted temple. the feeling in the despair. the moonlight struck. the crime of the moon. the tide of the past. headless emotion. nameless rose feeling to the color of the yellow sunburst, bathing in the moonless of the sky. vile south pocket case. homely and backward. the lord of the despite. jungle beast. forced escape of the prison employees, the shameless lot. buck na-ked warfare. he who ran really slow, dragging his
feet to the best effect, facing only the shadow in the camera opening lenses. flashing back to the flash. counting senses. dope fuck of the religions. they were all smoking weed as far as i concerned. dumping off the souls who wandered into the realm of the invisible. the faceless thoughts. hushing cool names. facing the sharp edge of space. the memory of the existence. he would passed for a devoted priest. first the faith. then devotion. then love. then the fuck. bashful child of a false marriage. they both were in lust, not for each other’s body but for the luxury. sound that never made it out of the empty room. the sameness of the penetration. the pain of delivering. the shutdown of the senses. huddle against the tide of feeling solid. sureness of the community. bold like coffee for the midnight owls, building structure to evoke the monumental crisis. hushed forever. the laugh in the ears fussing the meeting next. baiting the calmness of the still, run-ning water on waterfall. hateful crime of the crowd. mundane focus of the unrest. the sun had left the building. minor crime for the truly beloved son. he breathed a dog breath. throat restricting popping veins. highlighted butterfly effect. same day next year. we both were in awe of the darkness of the night. outside the window and the rain, facing the total destruction of the noise. haft of the overtone. raining against the nature of the street verbs. some of his short comings. the fact of the deal. mad me-dium and the voice of the spirit. no name nomad.
the back of his head was rising against the stroke of the wind. deaf mute undoing. far loud and repeat. this softness of the tone. the song in d major. count-ing corns and beans. softness of the innerloin. the hurt in the strokes. numbness of the distraction. dumbness. the lump. the hump. rumbling rubbing. the bump. the bump. festive vest cutting for the easy movement of the hands, no need to check back why. believe in the streets. hope for the upcoming of the naive. yes to the bones. why he laughed at my jokes i didn’t know. we rested. the sirens called for the fastest runners. the filthy dreams of the poor. mo-ment to ignore and moment to reject. it was funny that he was the one that made promises. bowl of sugar infected lime. the lemons in the tree. the fac-tual leaves: in the war they used honey to write messages on the leaves, let the ants eat them then the messages later exposed. calling for the return-ing of the wild. ice jungle. coldness of the drops. ear to ear. right right. how the neck followed the burning of the fingers. he hated the fact that i was holding his dick in my hand. sun screening the la-bor of some after thought. so fake the dog barked. focus unreformed. baked bodies of the boy soldiers. suffering fools waiting to be licked. the fatherless child. bailing out the last moment, he just leaped. vague foaming lanes of remembrance. soaking with the names of the distant cousins. baked in fake soft, pink to the teeth, hopelessly in sour. boundaries of the flesh. separation of the thought. beating off beat-
ing down. the fullness of the lips, the hairs, the ass. his pocket of lies. his strings of deceits. baked noise. naming the rose the color of the orchid. tactless same of the timeless summer. he hated the rain. missing the eye to look into the back of his head. waiting for something from behind to appear. we all wanted to gawk. the groom dickful attending guests. both fame and fortune. the running gap. the ruthless shore. facing off the blunt sharp lips. the best of the punch. worry and temped. i massaged his temple. laughed into the absurd situation we were in. major sound constructing the violent knuck-les. all in the reality of the focus. uneasy game of miscalculation. bones to the milk. i don’t cry if you don’t cry. selfish unreliable. the beat down of the brotherly. the sun heat bed. taking in the mind of the minors. the boxing of the cat. million bits of in-formation distributed. home unrest. the verification of the blind. unauthorized memoir. naked displayed. the drinking boat. the river without the banks. flow-ing of the water blood. sucking sucked and vulture eating scrums. i won’t bite if you don’t. the last of the start. some best remained undiscovered. the spiteful green. wetness unhallowed to infiltrate. foggy meadow boasting the glorious of the bright moon. midday detoxify. malfunction eating scrums. beat less rhymes of the old humor, echoing from the moss. hate undetected by the coming bull. feel-ing of the lusting of the pearls, the venture into the land of the wetness, beating full the untellable.
found objects. destination of the bears. the burning of the beef. hesitation to be healed. when the mo-ment strike would he still be as charming and at-tractive. same foul same filth, as beet red liquor breath. the soft sun. threat thrill theater threat. throat this the throbbing of timing thrills. tree and trees. to be yet undividable. some of the time we spent with each other in the park was totally wasted. we should had never came out of this world. butt raised to the level of the slap, his touch was excruciating. rating fineness of the hard soft. both waiting for the re-claim of the soldier lover. the hunter with no weapon. the king enthroned. buying the face of the undead, this cut of the diamond at midnight. some of the blue was lasting longer, the moment of dis-tilled clear. the place where every one stared. the stroke of poor vision blood. the fate of the hand. some bought some just poor managed. between the facts and the visions, nouns understood as verbs, the phrase of testing loud judgment. song for the defeated. calling memories to resurrect, baiting morning rain. words that haft desirable: rain, liq-uid, flow, run, river, wet. the focus in his eyes be-came more distinct, fleet from the unfound dimen-sion, vowing to retract. hut of living bones. bashing crushed and the sum of strokes. vaulting the ex-ecuted. reeking fake. he had the love. from the moment he walked into the restaurant. so cursed. the follower of the soap cult. reacting to the sense of the feet. bawling voices of summer afternoon,
loaf of yesterday bread. mine cold vastly undetect-able. for ever the words of the fool, he ejected then ejected. rimming the copper tone of the penny, spreading the seed into the wild, busting thoughts. sirens retreated into the deepness of the night, fac-ing the space of the unthinkable. bashing skull. the stone milk. the mean drops. the snake feet. the rat kiss. the mother liar. old find of the vintage thought, thinking back to the new, when finding was objected. home nuts unreliable. he had his cursing spitting out of his mouth in every five seconds. the soaking thirst. this nameless rose on his hand, waiting to be bloomed. earning the trust of the thief. the sound in his voice became less clear. his mouth agape. verg-ing on the steps into the deserted garden. the feast for the slut king. hole to the people. butt wrap. ego sense. licensed to be poked. he leaned forward, waiting. the softness of the pillow, unviewed by the rest, public displayed of the emotion if not exhib-ited. it was the language of the eyes. the runner in the strike, feet of the unruly mob. beating down the cane, the stick and hands. i had never missed any one as much. the song in his body. the language of his skin. counting the smell and the firm of his ass. acting the play on the broken stage. the fool with-out the cry. some meaned to be possessed. tough-ness of the tears. the fact of the streets, running feet in the middle of the night. hopelessness broken into pieces. mad break of dawn. facing the void. the box of smoke. the hole in the skull. the crack. the bro-
ken. the flat. the son of the bones. the strap of the automatic. vast unfound of the space. noting veil of the hail decoration. the painter’s stroke. cat unwise had the song in his tail, toning the lines into street of yellow houses. the group of faces. meat rotten to the marrow. boneless must. eyes seeing behind. what he called his rear i called his precious. hope-lessly in lust just to stand near. box unopened. fix-ture of the latch. words rejected by the popularity, the sense of the crowd. the refusal problem evolv-ing mass. running without the shoes. mean less chat. maybe he will move to another world. the moon, perhaps. song unstuck with some minor chord. cen-taur in the plain. broke ass street performer. think-ing the lust. face unreadable. the sum of rain. find-ing his restriction he dropped the words on the floor, echoing the last. smoke dust from the underground, the thinking frog. life turned into the shadow. the movement of unjust paralyzed. finding the lost. mossy green brunt off the field of vision, the life of the prison guard. why aiming for the problem. what with the stir. the thoughtless shut. the clash. the fury. the burning of the cross. song of the paradise. par-allel. paradox. paraphrased. hat rug however con-fused he did dropped the sense of leak, the hinder-ing vase of the rose. buffing off the last mess. sur-name unexpected revoked, for the weak to be able to respond. he put his face in my shoulder. the lines in his forehead became more visible, earthy burns of festival awake. hurter lunch and meatless con-
versation. hunting for the rest state of undress. he strutted off the last piece, facing the wall and reached up. his hands were in the air. leaning against his own shadow. the coldness of the wind. the fight-ing off the heat. the meaningless turn. voting for the rejecting beat of memories. earned stripes. what was it all about i could not care less. his ass was mine. that’s all. booming the range of the sweating pig, for the rain to come. butt in the air and hands down on the side. the colder the hot. server not found.
from Anthology, Red Kite Production, https://www.scribd.com