text messengers

Survival

I time of what
the flood
wave riding a gaze
unflaggingly from I liquid marked red
fragments imperceptible to the little eye of time vision useless
on space never more than a large field
the rest open to the drifter the celestial visions
sucking nourishment from sentences toothless
I grinder sounds syllables magma tremors
or beaten by the tidal wave adrift in substratum syntax
days of passion
light of veins unveiled
on the surface the articulation
I said energy blazing the scream or as burns left unsaid
for which the sun sometimes music on vast sky of open
flat on its back the isolate
the severed probably just for fun drawing upon the thrust of the bearable
from that side from deep enough the writing on the body
I etching of the sandy the instant effaced
pushing the fever to the resonating lips the gong
or a buzzing bull-roarer fleeing the head
or drums of survival
or dry desert dust bombs
and the flames always licking the body of fear
I of insect living nailed to the wall
seeking living to suffer more
dreaming it nightly
in light of the definitive
little living cell with a homing device
going wanting desperately to stick its sap somewhere
the kindness to mucosa the wait at orifices
the first mute celebration of life
engulfed by the lava flow skintight word wall between which
nothing to be done to extract the sounds just beyond death
tightening nerves to tune up the sound the lips higher
the bone skull ringing
shrill strangulation remaining just beyond death
or non-smile of empty smile in reflections in darkness face extinguished
feeble light from distant view
gone for seven days of circular hell
creation torments and calm included
sleep of open ground and dreams included
balanced in chaos defenseless
will survive or not resistance to blows the long duration of life
I gone exploration of the abyss
groping against day
already handcuffs on hands scars on wrists
on the feet irons chains
the distance of a step the unity of measure
I scraping my floor with it
drag the noise into space
first on the tape sound of prometheus
the vulture in the throat
with bloody cuts closed endlessly toward the silence
in the middle of the forehead the flat desert future
behind hidden perhaps the body to gather itself

the neck strangled by the cord awakening
trembling awakening
self-immolated monk
die body
beyond caressing hands
far from lips drank
memory of body
letting go present the moment survival
without knowing upon what to open the energy responded to the imaginary
babbling barely at the gashes
the screams from the edge of wounds insufficient
plunged black into the bloodbath
to work one’s veins for words
I speech opening mouth open to say I live to whom

I departing voice without response to articulate sometimes the words
that silence response to other ear never
if to silence the world not a sound
sink into the blue cosmos
no question except vertical voyage
I departing slide to the horizon
all alike all mortal starting with I
full tilt fleeing the horizon
finally hearing only music in the screams
enough enough
exit
to enter born on refuse barely recognized the terrain
emerged from salty slime the fœtus from out the sewer
solar plexus gnawed anguish diffusing lungs breath gasping