every morning at eight o'clock
playing a tondoo
a human guitar above us

and I want to fight
really fight him

I have blood on my cheek
There are gray scratches in the concrete

from hands with broken bones
from sweaty backs against chalk
bodies pressed against hard
there are black cats
in the corner of your eye

Today I have flattened all holes and cracks
the soft white falls into the hard
loosens, dries
become gravel and flakes of white color
I am painting falling into rooms

black beetles fly towards sunsets
small pale moths
little yellow flies

small white hands in cramp

There is something that looms
in the power of the hand
every night
there are tears over the windowsill when it's raining

I face up with blood in my mouth and I dream of

Paper

I have flattened all holes and cracks
the soft white miggs into the loophole
loosens pebbles
become gravel and flixes of

and black beetles pry towards
small pale moths
little yellow bhoots

small white worlds

every morning at eight o'clock
above us

i want to
really fight him

and beetles lie towards sunsets
small pale nurrs
little jimjam flies

small white hands in scorn
looming waves

and there is a desolation
mismeet scribbled walls
certainty intitled in the concrete
likely we have rafted overexpose

i have dried up blood on my cheek
shudder dreaming of blood

scribble on concrete
from enthrall that you threw

from hands with broken bones
from sweaty backs against chalk
cities pressed against

Today I have flattened all holes and cracks
the soft white falls into the waft
become gravel
flakes of white dices and marbles

i have brain on my cheek

and thankyoubeetles fly
vividly bodging
small coly moths
little yellow spaers
oho triff black cats

jimply pebbly fruits
warm in my hand
straight from the forests where they spin

small white hands in twerk

and black beetles die towards sunsets
stars pale jiggy poets
little yellow spies

tears reshipping
when it's roining
hands with broken bones
bodies against gods

no cure for fray lives