-Pre

-Pre

In this abyss of a soul remained untaken, I chose to wander joyfully till the verge of death. I am joyfully dead. This soul owns me. I am a perfect slave. I serve not my master; I serve his whip. I fuck the soul of my master’s mistress and piously I let her fuck me. My master knows not about this enterprise, he needs not to. Master is worried about things.

The next pages are always dirty of emptiness, and those who bless us with wine and blood ejaculate our lives. They build a narrative and let us bleed for more. Their kindness is overwhelmingly generous. We tell no stories; we are stories with only an ending. Those who bless us do not know our names; we suck theirs to form ours. We claim paradise.

Obscure not abstract. Responsible not guilty. Feels not knows. The crap of the titans. Your kakis will save you only amongst the masses. Kakis rule. Failure is an art and you win. Your hands are not mine, your smell is my death’s and you are every cliché I might utter and you win. And you kill me….and they bargain with you… and I fight them… and they drop you… and you sell me… and they buy you… and I die… and you win.

Do I speak? Do I do? Am I? The most powerful poem is wordless and the best wordless is a lie. The gathering of lovers is a gathering of false grammars. Grammar is the law of god and I shall dance muteness to the edge of memory. Love you I, lick you me, kills me us, there go you me for. Do I breathe?

The jelly ends are out of words, and thus they give way to verse.