poetry

Well, we'll look at them demandingly.
We'll look at them with understanding.
And we will look at them with forgiveness.
Yeah “billy joel looks disbelief”
That's the look the god of war called Christ.
That's what it is.
They pray without error.

We have a knack for manipulating other people's feelings.
I have inflatable red glittery horns on my head
and a burgundy corset with rubber band stockings.
That's my voice always in your left ear.
I'm the voice of reason, don't forget.

but I really like them.
It's an insidious devil's trap for me.
I dropped one cigarette five times while writing this.

Have you practiced calligraphy?
Yes.

it's a look of latent lust, but it's fake.
for unconcealed go for a walk or the dark internet.
at least you'll have a chance to get a gun there or a last resort.
this is the sixth time I've dropped a cigarette
and I doubt it's the same cigarette.
is it the same feeling? really?

well your mattress will want to tell you about its dreams and hopes too. don't believe it.

Ouija, what the hell? I don't drink absinthe.
Baudelaire, did you think we wouldn't recognize you in that stupid Italian mask?
so what are we talking about? what did you just say?
the look is a hypnotic power, especially at the moment of blinking.
what do you mean I'm ruining the magic of poetics?
I'm tired of these accusations from all sides.
I was just practicing my calligraphy, please.

No?
and I can say then that the poetry of the last century is porn in underpants.
and the present one in pantaloons and a spacesuit you think?
I can't stand them but I'll stand up for them.

they're naked enough, it's just that
the sub-Antarctic climate affects poetry maybe.
no, that's a very strong argument.

let me look at you with annoyance?
and I'll look at you with resentment.
and freud's cigar jaw wasn't even born in your time
nietzsche didn't get hit by a horse
 so what do you know about eroticism?

what the hell do you know about eroticism? what the hell do you know about it?
let's go find a betting shop
we'll be back in the past now we're rich at last.
baudelaire get the hell out. i'm just practicing my calligraphy here.

No?
and I can say then that the poetry of the last century is porn in underpants.
and the present one is in pantaloons and a spacesuit, don't you think?

I can't stand them, but I'll stand up for them.
and what kind of poetry can we talk about before the war is over?
goya I don't know what it is. but your absinthe makes you naked.

they're naked enough, just
subantarctic climate influences poetry maybe.
no, that's a very strong argument.

let me look at you with annoyance?
and I'll look at you with offense.
and Freud's cigar jaw wasn't even born in your time,
Nietzsche didn't get hit by a horse, he doesn't count, but
 so what could you possibly know about eroticism?
I'll look at you with pain.

damn it Ouija I know it's back to the future twice
let's go find a bookmaker's
we'll be in the past now we're rich at last.
Baudelaire get the hell out.
I'm just practicing calligraphy here.

I won't drink with you
look at me with passion.
no no no no I didn't mention the manic Victorian style.
we should all learn from commercial bloggers how to make eyes.

yes Charles we won't eat strawberries follow with your eyes the gaze should follow the finger.
why are you staring at berries.
look at me like a passion fruit.
not like a lemon I'm here pretending to be the fairy muse of a great old poet.

don't you want to work as a magic muse at all?
pardon me, I was overcome with unearthly poetic inspiration.

but you should always know what you're saying, unlike them.
Imagine Ouija and I know this every time.
yes and that's why you're not a poet.
no, but I see right through them, it's unpleasant.
this is poetry without rhymes we are equal to Cao Cao.
don't drop your cigarette on the floor again he may not be there.

I didn't like the mattresses but this text
is an indicator of density and if you didn't like the density then everything is fine
and if not look at me reproachfully