Untitled

I.

Perhaps it was just the lighting

it seemed I crumbled-- right there,

in the light stain in the corner,

light all over me, light over my whitened

skin but now I am unable

to linger.    Must go.

Ever since The Crumbling,

the constant electric inside

makes me
want

to kick : it is the medicine

and yet it still is.
I am high voltage

and there are many blinks.

You probably dont get it,

but anyways,

II.

the boredom kills me.

For example it's a day my tights are warm

and striped and blah blah  

anyway. The day drips

slowly-- drop; drop

in the sink of the day.

How slow the day

is, how bored

the cows--