Made love to the thing

This is beyond safety. This is beyond reality. Sell yourself to something else and see how well the world puts out. My body, the body- it’s on fire. Corporeal, unreal, jiving to something completely different, removed from what there was at that time- present in what there is right now. Coursing, the seven sins. Confusion and absolution- animalistic down to the intrinsic value, I put forth nothing but what I am. Fundamental, intellectual- pseudo being and the lunar baby, scary beautiful. Silence baby, it’s a commodity. We’re all absorbing, my name is Casa Nova. Unreal because it is SO real, I am shaking and I am loving something heavy. You’ve brought music with you, it is in me and a smile so strung out. Green in places it’s been before and color where it ain’t never gone. Let me bounce off you, it’s jeering- we’re jovial it’s juvenile. It should always be right now, right now, right now. Right now. This is cohesive and no one is coherent, totally in awe of this very moment, this very right now thing. It’s in my fucking hands, it’s seeping through and running down my back. It’s a perfectly human flaw, contentment. That’s why the moon is so- you can see the flaws, they’re right there and you can touch them. They are all consuming and ever present. EVER PRESENT. Your sound is stuck in my head, it’s reverberating off all the wells, cinderblocks and brick. Deafening, total vexation in the midst of your sex. What have you got to give to her, they’re putting on a show for you and can’t you see the insecurity. That- that is ever present and it shows through their façade, leaking in the way my moment is running down my back like sweat. Decay doing something cool to my living, it’s breathing in a new sense- we’ve died and returned, rejected by the light and retreating to the night. Sound everywhere. Voice everywhere. Being everywhere, many times at once- many things at once.