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Fishfinish ICH

Sweat under the eyeballs
head has come to a strong boil
empty pain and simmers
of the fingertips
metallic timbre

dilated hours
I lay on the food I've eaten
my face moistens the floor
second right in the crack
save this light

it burns my skin
sticks it on your floral pillow
how I've come to like pillows
a real
lover of sorts

stains on the protective white linen
of a destructive treatment
dust never crawls away
if for once it rests on and mingles with the
sweat under the eyeballs


fuck it
hurts
I'm
consumed and saturated
fuck it
hurts
I'm
blind in the brain before this lovely view.

(selbst)

I saw a double el
el deseo
was it multiplying before my eyes or
was it there before?
Vo
z
Vo
z
Vo
z
Vo
z
Voice softer crawls
than flies
but the best of all is your body next to mine
suave
fingerprints on clothes do they remain or
are they all invisible?

I feed on your missing
I feed on your missing
I feed on your missing
hate these nights now by
tomorrow I mean
in coma until we seeuns
.

Seeping through the endtimes

That past beauty is to never come
again. Between the six walls of regret every
movement of his 
mouth melts. 
An arranged heartbeat a very precise cut
checkered oppressive tiles
sweet secured exits
nothing beats the revolt climbing the throat
from inside up
from inside.
Ever seen a monster devour
mistakes ever seen
a country of hearts in a potato
still not
stained enough still
not drained
that past beauty
of the empty gaping holes of twenty and some
that past beauty
of the fluid streets of his disappearing town
is to never come again
stuck closed eyelids deep
breaths sighs and
violence
nothing beats the revolt climbing
the throat from
the head

-

Make a plea se
any
stay STIHL for now
taste the copper no
the work comes from the self that is a circular event
start to end same stop
I
make a plea
se 
Triste
T R I S T E
the filth from all the nuns and the newborns is under my nails and behind my eyes that I'd like to
open the mouth and its melting history
never a word again Worte Worte ruhige Liebe
un
plea se
do you at all?
Copper no the work comes from the self that is a circular event. I'm a waste at a loss.