MADE FOR YOU AND ME 3: hive Being (Stanzas 2018--part 2)
scent of the day: Nose Rest Day
MADE FOR YOU AND ME 3: hive Being (Stanzas 2018—part 2)
that cuck chair in the motel corner
nostalgic about the way the place used to be as soon as they migrate there
the preferred weed sack; the preferred woman: fat, pungent, no seeds
medical test results in a river
the inhumanity of not letting strangers hold your baby
but wait, are we not nothing more than avatars of our race and gender identities?
enemies invented to sell weapons
gas station libido packets
blind eyes roaming in their sockets as if with out-of-sync minds of their own
wise enough, empathetic enough—but still too impatient to be a shaman?
what in her he so needed to kill was the only thing keeping him with her
coitus in front of children is perhaps the purest expression of parental solicitude; but doing so in our anti-life land, our home of bloodbath gaming and cinema, is bound to cause trauma
“I won’t make you promises” is not a true deconstruction if the subtext is “I won’t after this one, of course”
and yet it does seem consistent, connection-wise, that mothers of c-sectioned babies of Similac sustenance would be offended by strangers connecting with their children at the playground
being suggestible has been adaptive (thinking that, say, the remedy will work is effective in making it work), but what often comes with this is belief in unreal entities
perhaps the silver lining of today is that it is easier— or at least soon will be—to think and say what we think (since people will be offended anyway)
ashamed to say it since so many have said it just to make a buck
denial of our earth nature has us hold that pharmaceutical confidence does not count as real confidence
nonexistent media representation of that black “girl next door”— “gorgeous but doesn’t know it”
you most likely have an answer about your looks if he is plastered and yet still so condom adamant
if what grounds, secures, the truth-value now of statements about the future is in the future, their being true now does not imply fatalism
surrounded by black women, cumming in hair is more taboo than cumming in mouths
leaping from the recognition of the mind’s power— seen in placebo effects, folk remedies, hypnosis— to the conclusion that the mind is immaterial
can skin the goat alive but cannot fuck it?
hypersexualized bodies (blacks, say) are more easily raped in good conscience
animalized bodies (blacks, say) are more easily killed in good conscience
remaining exploited because it frees you from having to care
blind smokers ever worried about rogue embers
sensitive enough to feel tragedy in the evanescence of a shooting star
“Nah—literally call me ‘whatever’”
do no harm—but c-sections scheduled for doctor convenience?
missile-polisher compartmentalization
a clock, like an etiquette manual, provides such a great opportunity to rebuke ourselves and others
prostitution frees us up to rip and run without concern for another’s gratification
into fat lovers so much that you feed them fatter
executed after a speedy trial for chucking a stone at a fortified tank
hungry to hear someone speak your own language
what do you hope to stop with a hermetically sealed casket?
the brains literally in your bowels
alienated from the zone for good by just one choke
perhaps the bigger shame is that after years of right-wing censorship even of things like a children’s book of a boy who likes to dress as a girl, the left in reaction has stooped to making nothing safe from cancellation
that almost all philosophies across diverse periods beseech us to discern the idiocy of dreading death is the most dreadful display of our dreading death
in non-porn sex, teeming
with farts and varts and falls,
laughter is permitted a place
since different color placebo pills have different efficacy, might different color Jesus’s as well?
so often you have already answered the what-should-I-do question simply in asking the specific person you did
a memory in which you bask, aware that you will become a person for whom it is—had to be—forgotten
our attachments spill over from people to mere stuff since mere stuff stays still
black celebration of hyperviolence, plus teachers packing heat, would take away bad press from police— but most teachers fear too much the scarlet-letter “R”
with pathetic plosives, a young boy battles plastic figurines from the film coming soon as puff-eyed parents, bedside, pray for time
