MuseumXVI is open
submit your writing and poetry via submit page or #museum16
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MuseumXVI is open
submit your writing and poetry via submit page or #museum16
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Maybe this is something they will leave on the coffee table and accidentally have a guest notice
then say embarrassingly oh
I’m sorry, we must be off now it
Was sure nice, sure, to have the opportunity
To escape the craziness of our work day and
catch up
with you
sure, and all of that, tootles
But no.
Come back?
a burning discomfort
thorough; in the muscles
the diaphragm and sickness
mortal life of eternal
Universal
Impossible-to-describe shit
fecund, poor, dreary
Poets and film-makers, useless!
Advice!
Trouble!
People!
Youth!
try and keep fed and satisfied
But they always seem
To lose control
and cause a
ruckus leaving somewhere
such this and that, realization
Revolutionary!
For one hour, at the most.
But suddenly, you get it.
Beer, porn, true love, etiquette, paychecks, funerals.
Nothing can stop the soul
From mirth.
_________
@16thZero
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I Don’t Want to Forget You (“Photograph” Remix)
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Laptop speaker and bodies in bed
Cereal out of a box
Karaoke downstairs
Weather as a sine wave. And the words just
Gravitating elsewhere.
I left my keys near the dumpster.
Mind-brain soaked and chewed
We're still young.
Cheap shampoo
Cigarette fairytales
New socks in old shoes.
Identities at auction,
Spiffed up and shiny. belonging
to no cause, no love.
At least I know this one little thing.
_________
@16thZero
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I Don't Want to Forget You ("Photograph" Remix)
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Clothes, refusing to let their bodies go
like pretty lights that catch the house
on fire.
Did you bring yourself here
on purpose?
And which answer is more
exciting?
_________
@16thZero
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Can I unbalance you
or position cloth against
damp air. Now away
drawn questions of
thermal, proper at dusk
the temperature perfecting
phones and wigs
in an orchid
fire behind us.
Extreme portions of discovery
the smell of pubic hair
lie awake with me, believe
in me while not saying
sweet things
all to and from dirt
the gym sweat is different
than this
this is what we have
the cloud of our small
experience. the wild
breath and humor
of all this
I get to share with you
I am so lucky.
_________
@16thZero
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August 2014:
Wood and dead leaves. A time when I could still feel the air. The smell of Fall. Compartment. A road, dark, never lit, never will be. Beyond the farm and into the mountain; beyond the mountain.
Water. Damp. This is old. This is where I lost myself. I could still smell. I had desire and real fear and pleasure. He put the rag over my face, and I never woke up.
If I get high, I can go back there. Just a little bit. The gray. The sudden dusty world. Scratches on a lens. I want to follow this, but I take lithium and bag your groceries instead.
The road. The leaves. The water. Dark. A place you do not revisit. Why is it more real? I can't wake up. I'm still there.
I swear I don't want extravagance or beauty or talent. I just want to taste water again.
Occasionally I can dream. And how can I smile at people afterwards? There is no flashlight and there is no dark. There is no blur. There is the Great Pretend.
900mg, Li+
Drink plenty of water but never taste it.
Always greet the customer.
Put the eggs on top.
_________
@16thZero
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Taste what real relationship you
And the city-walk
earthling pain
have.
I put out less struggle
And receive more sensation
more excitement
quiet
patience.
The skin-mind-soul equation
Infinity's classroom dismissed
Unsolved
but working.
_________
@16thZero
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regret comes with time
inevitable
cathedrals are built on shame
that's why they last
moral decline
is perhaps the only heaven
you will find before
you end
bloated eyes
a belly infiltrated
by this intoxicating set of moments
but they fade
and you don't matter, once again.
Okay.
_________
@16thZero
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You know how a bird can shine white
in the Arizona sun?
Then it dives onyx.
_________
@16thZero
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unbuttoning tides then and naked
for pain real comfort abrasive lust
slamming shut to open
and then this knowledge
since it’s raining out I’ll understand
if you have wet posture
no choice but to
pull storms here
in the past I would have blamed you
in the past I was a child
don’t I know better now
I am clearer in the seven-ton rain
inside or outside, doesn’t matter
but I must not be in the rain
merely of it
_________
@16thZero
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The task is about a million years old
And the books rotted me
And the experiences were cheap
Liquids went
down and out
There was a before and after
There was a way I walked
then, and a way I walk now
tossed about
the bones communicating.
Too busy
But the bones are necessary.
I wanted a different chemistry
I didn't get it.
The bones are not brittle
not strong.
The air smells different
but I can't say how.
_________
@16thZero
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Sun out over faces
Sun out over shit.
wax-dipped cherry corpse,
red proposals of soft air
lipstick;
gin.
Clenched teeth and highly sweetened
political stationary.
Old men beating each other off under the table
while you filter their pool water
with your kidneys.
Glorified lip moving
Believe in God?
The super extra-sized earthquake-
proof shopping
cart rolling
down the hill
The ice melting; the people inside; the melting-wax-people inside. They're cold but how would they know.
Bedrooms crumbled
upward.
Piles of museum smoke.
I am in a lot of pain.
_________
@16thZero
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Louder
clumsy hands dropping
the other's
into the wrong form of emptiness.
The attempt to build space
in which the machinery of harvest
is swallowed by the crop and texture is replaced
by noise and anaerobic
bland
unnecessary
creaking
dead breaths like glued intimacy
eaten foul
by the daydreams
or people who think that kissing
is in the lips.
Exceedingly afraid of dust
and sweat shuddering
ashamed of your follicles
ashamed to taste or enjoy
anything sub-pretty or
however you describe yourself
to me approaching
sundown.
_________
@16thZero
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Two sides busy moving
History now?
When my lips are closed they are kissing you.
And I guess when they are open
I am your voice one side dismantled, again.
Yes again.
_________
@16thZero
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