To Blake: circa end of '96

The have-nots ignore
your wealth
I decree it.
for I know the double-oppression
The "pictures of [your] pain"
adorn my brain's wall
when will our angels get together?
Not until we do.

Post-script from the Outer Greyness: late '96

Island-hopping
Mid-Leap
My imperfect doppleganger
burns away but,
tediously.
The grey trickle between
points
is my extra-brain
sneaking out my ear.
It is precisely the
in-betweenerness
that you remind yourself
to forget the one thing
you cannot.
Namely,
the exister.

"i really don't care" iii: late '96

burnt-out bulb
bulbous burn-out
nice try
change your stupid locks
it won't bring any takers.

"flirt"
"put-out or get-out"
our marks.
somwhere the
NonExistent
snickers

Why do I let the
un-one beat me?

"i really don't care": late '96

I thought about how
the next in line would smell
and how long.

I thought about when
the next gear wearing
the 1000th first shoe
would finally murmur
by.

I thought about how
many of my skin cells
still ossify in that bed.

This is supposed to be
my handle: chump.

Time for silent running?

"i really don't care" ii: late '96

Existence ends when all
notion of contact ceases.
All reality rubs itself.
Look over your shoulder,
no one is alone
Somebodies' just trying to
trick you.
rub back
guerilla love
liberation losers and the
polylectical pugnauts
know...