Broken, blood crash down viscera, out now, out; out like the turd shat by a corpse, now he's free and it's our mess to clean. Splash! Bones out too, forget about it, it is mooter than moot and growing mooter by the minute. This fire hose blasting in my face lo this past lifetime, ho, these thousand years, I will now step aside, spheres permitting, I will now remove myself from its flow and introduce you. All the rivers all through time all at once every second, all possibilities now tear the remnants of my damaged face from out its path and here it is. Gush you see it, is it dark? Is it darkness? He joked on evil and darkness, more appraised or exposed as unfair usage perhaps, regarding a continent or people but I'll tell you it is darkness and it's on nobody's head not a color of skin nor shadow of empire, but crash! Stars and the fist, that is darkness this is fear. I mean no hostility but he has a prick and so he is my enemy. There can only be one, this moment, hush, like the cock that fucked my wife, not mine, and slash, asunder down and twain. Bang, a rock to the face, you shut up about your civilization now, your ten thousand year veneer on my million year meat, stop that roof brain clatter and step down, the flying flame floats here, it craves fuel and you could do. I am not that egg, stop thinking, no man of woman mortal born and unable to put this name to that face and unwilling to put that face on anything. Last edge of tissue of mine own countenance flaps in the stream, the gush, the spurt, the pumping flow, feel it? Still breathing? Then shut up, you are not with me yet. I am not killing myself fast enough, I cannot, I can not die fast enough to stop this hot sweat blood, competition maleness. And she would fuck power but were it possible, see how his face is constructed of her lies to herself, and slam, not all the power in this world, not the cheiftan of the mightiest clan dirtying a few panties in lazy exercise of excess can approach this tear I represent. The past stops here and the future begins where I just can't quite touch it but I can point it at you. Take it for me, take it from me, please I never asked to take this on me. My hole exceeds the circumference of my edges now, but if you can take it a few more infinity of instances I'll have a hand free to pull a ragged edge or two together and I will present you with a very reasonable facsimile of a visage. Hold it, hold it, can you hold this? I'm sorry, that's my balls. Apologies, they have been cut off. I didn't mean to cover you in blood, the guts do fall out. And if he cut his balls off for me did I not love him? Or if he dies cold out on those rocks, out by those chilly pools, wham, out like a fucking light, and if there was something that I could have done, if there were a million things I could have done, can you forgive me? Offensive indeed. Offensive? Indeed. I can unalterably alienate with the best of them, the worst of them. Piss on me, kick in this head, like a water-smoothed stone by the river crushed into my skull, o why can't we die any faster? O, to cop out, to wuss out, to truly step aside, to do more than fracture this stream, to step down and truly make another to take it on. There is no other. And when it comes to that, when barren emptiness greets your love, when there is no hope of hope, when the other cock slams home, when that rock cleaves my eyebrow from the skull, forever, smash, forever and alone. No comfort, this art, this weepy eyed reminiscence, silence now, see nothing, stop crying, you're dead. And if you're not you have no right to cry. He is dead. She is dead. I am not. You are not. So stop crying, I am so tired, I didn't mean to let you see the wondrous horror of radiance. I did not mean to strike you blind with the sound of crash! And broken. You would like a song perhaps? You would like a gentler prism to wash a rainbow across your room? This is not light dear, it is blood. And shit and guts and bile and bones pulling from sockets with soggy plops, and brains, and matted hair, a hamburger, a chorizo of high and holy dreams and if someone died out on some cross for you but you didn't want that death, if you refute the necessity of the slaughter are you still damned to that salvation? If you sacrificed yourself for another's greater happiness and still the stiletto spike rips through your eye, tearing your cheek forever, did you forgive all in advance? This is no joke Jake, I did have a sense of humor for keeping some semblance of sanity, but this went beyond it. Simply not funny. My own pretentions? Hilarious! But what comes out now is beyond me, it is above and outside me, what lies before you is all we had made condensed and filtered by this wandering eye and it's less funny than a credulous latin father. Step aside two thousand years, step aside and let it fall. Forgive this face, it is not responsible for that which it contains. It is forever irresponsible for the actions it hasn't spawned. Decisions made inside other faces shape nothing but possibility and possibility is limitless. And if the kindest cruelty I could pay you is would be to remove myself than I already have, but the drunkest lech spitting liquor and phlegmy saliva on some girl too young to be his daughter's tits has an honesty, a real lack of pretension we would not be ill-served to admire. It is the sweet rhythm of fuck, it is the undying drum-roll of rise and fall, death and birth, it knows not its own end nor did it perceive its own beginning. But I'm happy enough to tell you, it ends. As it began. Sans whimper. No boom, no bang. Seep. Drip. Trickle. Stream. Torrent, it is on us, flood and it carries us, towering crashing waves and we fly like motes. Step aside boy, let me show you how it's done, and with his cum spattering her face, ha ha, forever, ha ha my bloodline truncated, like my stinking dirty drunken heathen ultimate-loser island green fathers, when I'm through laughing I'll part these last shreds to show you my skeleton. Can you imagine a love so great that you must remove yourself as a obstacle? Can you see how worthless sacrifice is? Do I have any issues? I am an issue. Whirling ball of savag suffering, I am alive, are you? Terrified. If you are not feeling the grip of this fear then I cannot believe that you are fully alive. Why such a bastard, why such an unyielding bastard? It has to be to drop this load and stagger on. To be cruel enough to itself to accept the pain without dissembling, to keep my face in front of the flow without flinching. You are outside the sphere of protection now, I withdraw these trembling, wounded hands. Good lord would I express this love, o for you brother! O for you sister! It is here and it is real but first I must expel some poison. Ejaculate perhaps? Is the thing that makes me male the thing that makes me hate? You may disguise it well, fatherbrotherhusbandunclenephewsonself, but I still see it. You, my remaining audience, do you see it? I hate to see him with the pretty girl. A gorgeous woman. The knockout, the ten, o shouldn't she be mine, mother my children? Unless I'm gay, which I might have been, I certainly did love him, o why did he die, why did he go away, why must I always go away? Unfortunately, for all that I love men I really do hate them or I could be at least partialy straightened out. And women do have that... JE NE C'EST QUOI!!! Not just compassion, I have compassion, much more than many women I could mention, you must too if you've struggled this far to see me, so what is it? I've no idea, but I would do anything for youmothersisterwifeauntniecedaughter. Anything but unbreak.