a storm comes for the body puts that taste of metal in the mouth shivers, twitchy muscle the self dissolves into a fog which is a kind of grace but then it congeals into solid form and wraps its grip around the throat do not be afraid hormone crisis, hardwired terror empties the bowels
he turns the tv on and off has a hamburger and a freakout cook and valet butler and body man hair and make up ultraviolet light bleach he moves deeper and deeper into the house cleans it out
I got COVID and went to school learned so much didn’t read any books but now I know white knuckle cortisol dump I circle the hospital and then the house feeling great nothing like a steroid ride rose garden family plot I stop and stand to be admired pull up my spine while my body shrinks inside my suit
the virus he thinks will die inside him scoured and bleached nothing survives in there
a mild case is not so mild night terrors cold sweat proud boys men with torches cars and guns children in cages a white woman in stilettos ground glass in her lungs
hello queer asshole I’m really busy eating dinner working if he wins I am putting my money under the mattress it feels so hopeless I am here in the woods in Utah, for work above a diner why would I vote for that asshole I do not know who he is you aren’t associated with the republicans are you? the last few years can’t do anything ruin everything in a nursing home not here at college I just retired listen! listen! you did this the other day what is your name I wish he didn’t say will you please shut up
truth is he hates the housewife that birthed him and the suburb that housed him his wives look like his mistresses and his mistresses, his wives never the housewife Jamaica Estates not Jamaica god forbid Queens
He lumbers into the bathroom, hangs up his robe and quickly enters the shower. When he is naked, he does not look around lest he be surprised by the image of the woman-pig reflected everywhere in the mirrored walls that surround him. He grunts with complaint as he knocks over soap and shampoo bottles, breaks towel rods.
The water never comes out hard or fast enough. It trickles and leaks. He is so dirty, so angry. He wants to be hosed down.
Is he dreaming of washing away his troubles or of climbing into the womb from which he was forcefully expelled? Or is that he is so repulsive, even water avoids touching him.
he has no investments in meaning
no sense of sense
dead on arrival,
ideas slide out of his mouth
drop onto the floor
the linoleum curls up and dissolves
around a hole
The hand slithers and grasps.
Limp and sticky.
Cold, sweaty palm.
The hand is covered in shit.