You throw yourself up The nose, the cause, the brows The thighs, the cheekbones, the cheekbones, the hands

Teeth gnaw-gnaw at the breast at night Moss-grown palms under paper skin Feet kicking through the coffin wood

Why this and not that? Why this?

When I listen deep, I'm not my owner Maybe I never was

It's a clear spring day and I fill with sky Ninety-eight percent blue

This spring holds a killer in her claws

I say sorry with black breath, black letters staining the air around me Maybe 'sorry' is the closest I ever got to expressing love

A million bedrooms with hands softly lulling our divine cocks and cunts, without telling anyone, a million ships come alone out on the calmest seas

Spat out that neoliberal, girly heart that held no blood and made no beat, just vibrated sweetly in the chest

She wants to disappear, she wants to be ashes, musk, breath She has worked on it her whole life

Golden locks Dripping, melting out of me Golden showers

We slowed down Stopped outside Prada Marfa An abandoned petrol station Or an art world sphinx or oracle

I woke in the night to hear our pores heave I was a thousand little mouths, a thousand baby birds Eggs hatching, skin breaking

Why this and not that? Why this?

'It's just for contractual reasons,' I explained Signing the papers As if I truly believed that a contract was further From the institution than the industrial happiness complex

I am threatening to some Like an empty body Must be explained But not explored

I woke in the night to hear our pores heave I was a thousand little mouths, a thousand baby birds Eggs hatching, skin breaking

The next day, it is I who break It's a clear spring day and I fill with sky

Tissue and sound is what is stretching out of myself

I turn off the lights and dress myself in silver and gold I go out into the edge of the city Tread on my twigs that are not yet burning

My palms are picking up radio signals Speaking in tongues from time to time Speaking in tongues from palm to palm

'It's just for contractual reasons,' I explained Signing the papers As if I truly believed that a contract was further From the institution than the industrial happiness complex

Can you feel the sweater tag itching Pulling at the neck where I tied your threads together?

Wood is a woman I guess I'd burn

I feel tender in the elsewhere

Untie my hair from the ocean of winter The roads and the cars Dissolve behind me as I untie you

From each pore in my skin grew shimmering eyes And fingerprints filled the eye, the eye sockets

The body as a subconscious And desire takes place somewhere, everywhere, everywhere

Every beat went all the way down Into the two holes in the ground

A thousand apples dream my dreams A fringe of serpents line the brows

Biting until bleeding

And I have something better I want something better We all want something better We are something better

As I write this I must pretend someone's holding my hand Probably someone dead

I lose myself in the rituals of bad art, in failure

A black vegetable soup of hair and teeth

Back and forth and round and up Avoiding the loops of the mind

I was waiting, forbidden No one knew I was waiting, not even you

What can I say? I don't know who I am, but I'm working on it I'm working on it

No future Oh, the fruit flies

O I need the fire, the rushing of the fire Release me from the night

When we die we become paper Charcoals and a marker pen

Failed every period Did baroque badly Afraid of blood

I told her the dog was a wolf and the rock was a cliff, and you're a horse! I said, if the dog was a wolf and I a boy she could be a horse, sure thing, she had no excuse

The bananas rot slowly in my lap, silently, wildly, girly

I have big dreams And blood powers

I'm in a big house, having big dreams The next time I wake up there's blood on the bed Didn't know it was time yet Or is it not mine?

For a short moment in time I let you wipe out my facial features But flesh is the loneliest creature

You won't have to wait for long You will not be awake for long We'll meet in the smallest great unknown

In memory of The sea took him Too young to die

I want something better We all want something better We are high, Alice