Congratulations

The new thank you

How to talk about reading

Without talking about actually reading,

The active searching,

Without admitting that I actively searched for the words?

The active searching for response?

How do I boredly respond to yours

That makes not a quiver in me

But just the subtle pang

The good old jesus christ

The, that's all?

How do I even wonder at my reaction to your reaction

The emotionless chill

The chilled emotionless

The chilling emotionlessness.

The phone wants to Autocorrect to

Emotionless ex

Which is a laugh-out-loud slogan

Better a laugh-inside slogan.

Thanks, phone

Thanks, 'net.

Thanks be to god

I am no better than you. I weep at my own words tumbled from my fingers

I weep at the screen with dryer eyes.

This is how we see each other. Through all of this

shit

Just the most least of the worst of the best of the shit. Still nothing less or more than just

good

old

shit.

somewhere

I am a little beast in here, a beast for you 

babe.

who has fingered me? don't stop touching on me. don't use your words at me, leave your swoll fingers afar from. I'm grippable. take my city from me, push it out my holes, fill my brain with other-fluff, the stuffs of else. I already knew, read ahead in all the books of this. once I was at your house and we were fighting, I was in the bathroom and you put on fade into you by mazzy star and I started to weep. I thought it was an example I could grip, of you connecting to me. and you hadn't any idea I felt your playing this song to be a reaching out for me. I started to cry because it felt like we were in the same place for once in awhile. you were hearing & responding & sending it back out. but then you changed the song in the middle, and I looked at my tearface in the mirror and the illusion was spoiled. welcome back, I said to us. but always remember, to never understand should never be a surprise maker.

shone me something

squinty little eyes on the shine, in that shine. 

my face is turning, growing into something

it's a little destruction planet. 

I blow out my teeth with my words

the words trip out my throat & 

the words tongue my tongue.

the sun tongues me

and my teeth explode 

and I gum the words for the rest of time

and there are palatal licks of sound

and alveolar outbursts

and labial laments.

but those dentals be damned, a toothless attempt

at getting across any desperate points

metalepsis

So all that's left is the voiceless acceptance

the gutterally giving in

the fricitive finality.

Take my words but

spare my sight. I want to die with memories in me

of the very things words don't do

glitter

glow

gush

weep

words might, but sight happens better,

how would they ever catch up