Out Of The Flat and Onto The Spikes

From the stirring----There--- The beating upon reading a letter on skydivers. There--- The joy after eight months of flinging about and searching for signs in the sky of where one could rest. The epiphany from regret and now remorse: The choice to stay with the ground who endures. And see--- That one will no longer look at the sky, puts away the wings, and begins. The wings are screaming. Hushed. This is necessary. There--- The spikes. The heart is screaming. It is being hushed. Retreat--- Cutting out--- The noise---Time lapse--- [Negotiate this…]:

0 began

With Sunday’s assessing look while holding the child that was no longer a heathen, You look unnaturally composed. The reply was laughter, Unnatural always. It must be all that young sex that I’m getting. I’m kidding. O said, You’re not grieving. Bitch, have you even had self-destructive sex?! Joe! Get her number! Laughter as Good New Joe gamely mimed. The reply was a smile and coolly Self-destructive sex has been regulated. I have a guy I fuck every month. Which reminds me: Time to fuck. Lose all this self-control. Somebody threatened with a joke that he will put it as fb status message that I’ll fuck a different guy every month. Hilarious. Not even anger. Just good and bad laughter.

.5 began

With Red Monday. All that red is a flag to the bull and all those hearty greetings are answered with a saccharine “I hate you.” Let’s get it on with the show--- the fractured dirty finger a happy trigger and no pictures please. Stage fright again. Performance of an appropriate break. Because the sunshine said that it is expected not to speak of love. Because if the sons of bitches were articulate then this is what they would have said. And that night--- the triangles are all exposed, broken egos, these left hearts scraping the skin like fingernails when inside one is already raked and raked raw. Awkweird, Mr. Bond said. Three grimaces were kissed that night. To one--- It will be all right and here’s the promised smack. To two---- You’re my girl and to hell with these little fuckers including the douche bag of the dude. To three--- I don’t want to screw you up but if you want to give them a show then we can give them one. One can never screw up another if one is upfront. The game of flakes is for the young. One has aged.

1 began

With the Fathers asking questions about the retreat. The answer was silence and the fractured finger held up, pointed to the laptop, the two mobile phones buzzing and ringing, tapping away the frenzy of the spiking in between movies and compliance with disobeyed orders for immobility. The spiking ranting--- the ensuing cutting from the mess of life’s curve balls--- being halted by Mr. Bond’s declaration of vows… The maker asks, Did you have premarital sex with him? Snorting laughter. Well, there you go. He was not getting it so he looked for it. Go out with one of these guys hanging around you like bees for years. The man has to fuck and be fucked: What a man, What a man, What a man, What a mighty good man… Those left would have absurd speculations. Another snort. To be alone. How was last night, my Princess? It was awful and it’s all spiking.

1.5 began

With an invitation to retreat into a cave and laughing admonitions--- Don’t wreck the room. You threw away sheets? What else are you throwing away now? It’s all goddamn spiking and the flat line is needed to do what must be done. It is a process, Fathers, and one that must run its course. The way time was not cut off, every time for a long time, so as to let the dying die. This is burial, Fathers, and your helplessness is understandable. One is not supposed to drive with a drugged fractured finger. There, a bump, distracted by a beep. One calmly gets out of the car, looks, smiles, shrugs, asks how much. There is no panic. And finally laughter. Mr. Bond asks, What? You got into an accident? What? What happened? The other driver had a problem and one solves problems. And what was his problem? His wife. There, laughter unto the clown’s cave. The clown says, You are out of center Princess. The finger, the accident just now… Because of the stirring and now the spiking. From the broken frozen for it would have destroyed one then. And now it is thawing, the spikes. The rage must be put to sleep and make way for grace: the dance of the clowns.

2 began

With the clown saying What a coincidence meeting him here. One laughs at coincidences manipulated for lips and the carnal aborted. That spinning. That knowing that alteration is upon time when one leaves for the sea and sky. It vanishes, is let go, returning to when it all began---- The Damned ‘99 Children gathered with their Mama and Papa. Mama says How long since I last saw you? A decade? Good that you have filled out. You no longer look like a junkie. Still insane though. More controlled, Mama. And Brother Fucker looking at his special sister Well hello Brother. I heard you got hitched twice. What the fuck Brother? Once isn’t enough?! Brother Fucker stutters into laughter and dazed unto silence. Terse Papa says to Brother Fucker Your sister is a hanger, you know… And Mama and Papa say And she is the favorite of Satan. Temperamental bastard. Can’t kill the whole world you know and oh be sweet. Brother Fucker says Sister, you look like a kid and you will never marry. The unicorn exists and Brother Fucker you need to change that old dude wardrobe. Now, try fucking your second wife this way…Laughter. The moon…Howl.

2.5 began

With tears at sunrise: Fathers, the mind is unlearning the lies believed. Surely you understand why the heart is spiking and spiking to be still. One is Beloved, Fathers. It survives what would have killed. It fights to live every hour until the eleventh hour. Look, the sun. It is the moon cold once more.

3 began

With the return to purpose, its work. Here! Peace! Cease that panic my children! Let us cook you! Back now and rolling Comrades! The next seeing a man self-destroyed with love. Now the man dreams of what the past says cannot be the future. She will not come back to you. The man says that he knows it will not happen now. Says he has an uncle who had separated from his wife for a decade and they reunited living happily ever after. Says it can happen. Says he can dream. One respects the resolve of doom in misused prepositions. And you have been cursed. You think there is escape from silenced raging gutted out of a heart bleeding into itself and holding the blood of witches. The heart always in triangles, the dream from the time of triangles--- Love--- How clear to one while the blind remains wordless. […Motherfucker]