.142 [esperanza]

it's been days and

she's barely crossed my mind.

food is returning to the tastes

i recognize and enjoy.

maple, fennel, creme de menthe...

the milk in my coffee no longer clouds up in effigy to her.

i've started to enjoy real jazz...

enjoy the sound of live music —

enjoy the company of live musicians

esperanza.

not a woman -

not flesh and blood -

a coded word.

a complex concept.

making the

simple ritual of beauty

transcendent

like the myth of permanence or

the shine on the sun

The Floor 15

with Walter (on the right) & Fuzzbee

Black and White stills from a video shot by Bjorn Fleuren

with Carolina

.141

you cut me open

with a heavy serrated

knife-lust,

scooped out

my testicles,

and made

a sandwich

with 'em,

which you ate

while casually

shooting me through

with your

poison gun

.140 [my space]

it feels like a ghost town.
like a ghost world.
there's still a lot of stuff —

more stuff everyday
but its different.
it's muted.

it just doesn't matter.

.139

what happened to your eyes?

what happened to your smile?

what happened to your wickedness?

and what will happen now?

evacuated.

disappeared.

people change,

evolve.

you're looking older now

not more mature -

but jaded.

your eyes - they're dark and hard and small and tight.

the curl

of your lips

seems shallow

and sterile.

your smile -

that's changed too.

the angle of your cheekbones

it's different now somehow

you're still beautiful to me.

same as it ever was...

maybe you're happy

but it doesn't look that way