Peeing Three Times in a Row

Writing with the energy, excitement, doubts, fears, and the anxiety of something without mentioning it. Instead using this something as a motor for writing, simply spilling words out onto the ‘paper’. All writers are writings onto the paper. How many times has the bright reflection of the sun onto a very white building made me change where I’m sitting? I am not allowed to feel bad. I’ve never allowed myself to feel bad. The rush of the impatience is making me feel bad.

i like the overdose of work accelerations
slips of words doses of worms
which are crawling under the table
as you gather your feet
holding them their smell transfers to your hand and you write
transfer or non-exchange they must get nothing of you
just their smells transferred to your hands
maids are making decisions washing their hands in the laundry room
viva la visa my grandmother was a maid

writing provokes in me visceral sensations
plastic feelings are bringing me back out of myself
the depth of the shallowness of words in english and screens
of all sorts like
screams
the nothingness of laughs bringing me away from plastic feelings

what is to say is to be kept
not randomness into the black keyboard
making not the right sense right away
not the left, not the right like a kid song
sheeps floating in the universe it is a day
to kill sheeps not because europe is vegan
no and no.

no rest i get to rest in bed
those are the days when something more or less big came up
or nothing because really nothing is something big
how could it be ever like that