This Is Not Art

Poetry to Split the Social Order

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Opening

I want so bad to be touching
My body is tearing at itself to reach out with its cracked skin and swim in the heart of someone else
I am so thirsty, my throat is raw and bleeding like scraped knees in the afternoon glow
I want to drink in everyone, I want them to flow through me
I want to transcend the tired shit we are always talking
I want to live in someone elses soul where all the wild waves are crashing notes against the shore
the brain is just a barrier, a reef with tons of tiny fish, all confused and lonely trying to get out
I want to know where people live, where they really live and see what kills them and warms them and makes them feel safe and scared
I want the sky to pour buckets and wash away all the timid smiles and closed eyes and formal handshakes and suits and cars
I want the rain to wash away the cancer and tumors and the pins and needles and the coughing and chemo and sadness
I want to know
I want to know everything

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