oh, renoir

nocturne communique/nocturnal e-mission
echolalia and alexithymia—i woke up alarmed. i didn't know where i was at first. just that i woke up in your arms.

textual relations/e-ruptions
is it that some cuts you can reopen and others you can't? if i could just get lost between the two notes being sung. being in the middle of a power chord. between the root and the fifth. yes, i'm talking about feeling vs. reason. yes, i'm talking about sticky fingers. what i know is conditioned by what i need to know. so i'm centered and i'm vibrating and it feels like driving along the edges of the inverse of a mountain. what makes a cliff more impressive than a beach? no eyes in the back of yr head, no arms in the back of yr heart. just a fan that's gonna blow or suck but you don't know which and you kinda want both. two flames last as long as it takes the match that lighted them to burn out. and the only sound or song is that of the charred stick writhing until it's consumed.

the air is perfumed with cologne. you want to see how close you can get to it, if you can enter the air without it raining on you. shy tops and bossy bottoms. gay ghosts, shy lust, and angel's spit. boy swept to sea and we are shyly hunting for him. sea weeps for boy. we are hunters with brooms and we sweep the sea. sand spiraling outward in the shape of an anus. it's not a graveyard, but the bed is. he shut his eyes and heard the shout and felt the warm accusing strokes fall lightly across his face.