Friday, March 11, 2011

deterritorializing the institutionalized body without organs

i want to see you leaving the hospital without any scars, but no one leaves without scars.

i want to see you leaving the things that were poisoning you back there where they can be put to earth, so they can become the next thing, and you can become the next thing.

i want to see you pushing forward with your head to taste the gorgeous holes in the world, the ones, only the ones that are capable of giving birth to you.

i want to see you spasming and twitching like a visionary saint during a 30-day fast when the godhead is deciding to explode you in a spiritual ecstasy in your heart in your soul & spilling over your pelvic bones.

i want to see you open your mouth for a sugar cube that will make you see sweet things, & tell me sweet things about what you do see.

i want to see you close some doors behind you until your least favorite bats suffocate to death, because there will always be new bats born on the walls of the caves of the world made of roads.

i want to see you want so much that your want becomes like clay, tangible and ripe for animation, dense enough to carry itself on a shallow river, & thick enough to cover over the holes in the roads of the world so you don't fall through, so you can't fall through, so you won't fall through when my head is turned.

i want to see your flickering faces growing still with zen or age, narcotics or laughter, still enough to hear me tell you that i want to make it so that you can't disappear if i turn around to see if you're still behind me, because my throat hurts too much to sing in the underworld today, and i'm scarred & spilled & sweet, and thirsty to taste your salt.

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