electric renaissance

the language
of tiny jagged hooks
growing in my brain.     shimmering
bloodwords falling along
the ceiling of my tongue
spatting litterature, spitting
littleature across the tiled bathroom
floor. pools of
dust and things that never
hurt enough:         the whispers of collapsing
                          stars in the mirror.

those hooks
scrape across my
hollow turtle shell larynx.
rip the soft
phonemes from the stone
cradles and
scream.

   across my eyes these fucking roaring singing hooks
   don't ever stop waking up words at dark o'clock crying
   in oceans of frozen whiskey carrying ships across the
   shit literalture for war for death for christsake i need to
   fucking sleep hooks! i need to speak, set free and span
   the awful coffeeality, blood cracking across the air where
   electric daggers slash synapses in the corpus callosum
   of time, til half-naked crawling, dripping television voices
   the dark honeyed blood of language, crushes me to the
   floor. deadly poetic hooks -- why do you kiss my teeth
   with darkness from your radiant palpable mouth?


my mouth
like a fading point of light
sears the books
i love with white noise -- somewhere
a lion opens his
mouth:

                                                                                                          [nothing.]