poetic recycling 2:

I don’t who loves who climping up the stairs horny spooked by the stars I wrap for a later score in d-minor she is fucking sleeping what did I do wrong and I do care I think the other bone structure is perfect and now after 12 weeks we hug I am not a tree she is not a tree but we are in deep fucking forest country cold damp silent astray apart lost tall and split legs birth blood blast back to fucking trees in nostalgic copenhagen my dick is bleeding I cant unlock my bike my pants around my knees around my future future is always different future is never there his eyes never loose the one now wide asleep I cant believe it seems simple but nothing will stick no ends ties up we do not communicate more than we piss we do not even try we let it loose and flow it’s as fucking stupid as long hair slow traffic keep right do not yield do not merge or mingle the questions unanswered but we keep asking them we ask to the bones stick out what stuff are you into and what stuff means shit to you that doesn’t mean shit to me and is not retrospect and half asleep and she and her bones states everything I liked about the eighties where as they before sleep drift into everything I hated about the eighties which subsequently leads us to the inevitable talk about death and being a by gone you should check out the stars I say again but its too cold you say and choose to take a piss instead and I think we are doing this because it means stuff but here I wont even think any deeper because I find it too private even for my self remembering that reality is a construction remembering the secrets I revealed on highway 5 that I in the dawn of 2003 committed a severe massacre on my own sperm neglected my appointments with the shrink and basically didn’t give a shit the question being: do I give a shit, am I really the cynical, ice-cold fuckface I find so hard to escape? But would she just wake up, and state an head investment instead of rolling flat on her stomach I think I could stop thinking about other bone structures as the geography of my situation really denies me the pleasure