preculture/nonharm.

can't, stop talking long enough
to pour in oil and wine, topped
him with turned tables, burning
the planned obsolescence of the
nightmare, and you can't.. what

were you covered in? and did an
alive link striate, suffocating
the inorganic chemistry trailed
behind us, like rose petals the
floor of a church at a wedding?

i'm careful when i look into my
mirrorshades resting upon some-
one else's face, as they're on-
ly another me, but i also don't
really want anyone to stare at;

actually, it's omnibenevolent..
the tattoo has its own, sinuous
rhythm in the biology: mistaken
for decades and only towards an
imminent knowledge discovers he

the pianist, gothical intellig-
ence that buoys up and supports
the big other, he who has among
other things been implicit, in-
tuitive, and insular, but there

comes an era of outward propul-
sion and confessing: the spirit
looked around, literally seeing
everything in its everlasting--
now true--condition & gestured.