Roaches, the Second

it was at the beginning inches of the night, the end of evening,
eleven in the dark pushing thru the moon when the roaches would
gravitate towards the flood of sap-fluid-leaking light. I observed in
between the blinks of my eyes the scuttle of one in a circle, mildly
deflated, but thoroughly a consistent pattern from which he promised
not to stray. the roach assured me he was aware of his repeated act,
and the spectacle of a cockroach congregation. there is a deep hour
from eleven that was destined as an insect's belonging; specifically
now a belonging of the roach, as it is agreed to be the most eminent of
insects. a concrete square selection within the sidewalk was worn rough
and sick gray. one two and three of them upon it, the sick gray, and so
elated I saw them; perhaps, I thought, a roach is more heroic than one
might surmise.

and then from the back seating of her car I couldn't watch them from
their corner walk way any longer. So I looked forward. it was black.
and a sleeping blue.

I felt drugged I wanted to drain my body of melatonin. I never wanted
to feel drowsy.
I never wanted to notice when we had no sun.
we exited the lives of the street bugs but suffered bites by spider.
bites by mosquito. yesterday my heart stood up straight with me but my
brain did not. something swam too fast inside the skull and i couldve
collapsed someday i simply will collapse it would expell the troubled
pain of such momentum from vision to cortex. the world i generally
perceive bleeds in from the iris and degrades to a gaggle of off
colours. gleaming and glittering and most important, decomposing
masses. it is heavy and could be so distressing but i have seen it for
years. it complicates the matter of erecting ones body but softly
fades. it is unlike feeling drugged.
but i have suspicion that melatonin is involved.

every choking car that sings us sound desires thunder. to keep one or
two awake or more. morning enters two or three too early but it is the
same. i remained positioned forward. the harvest moon was drunk. it
slumped low enough and whirred too loud. we had never heard the dead
waste planet whirr but assumed that it was normal. or digested it with
sugar and shrugged.
|it's all the same|
the harvest moon was also rotting. why havent we got our trash inside
that night sphere?
i guess the rockets end in flames engulfing the metal. the plastic.
some rubber. people.

a headache sticks to the insides. everything got disorganized.
i blamed the melatonin.
the windows were drawn down by electrics and she closed her eyes. i
rubbed mine. he scratched his hair and he drove. june was lacking sense
or semblance. we all got out and wouldnt see a june bug till july.
another three weeks from last friday and it is july and the fourth no
less. the driveway was where we were going to part. the moon was
buzzing now. not so much whirring anymore but decidedly still pleased
to glare into my face, and mine directly. i sneezed. i could not
accurately attest to it, but the roaches had been removed from their
world; they now survive in ours. i could not accurately stay up right
and fell backward and found grass. beyond the driveway. bones were
saved.
i did not thank any melatonin. i was too drowsy to recall.

8 am could've seemed surreal then, as it got to be bright morning as
apposed to the darker minutes, within 1 and 4 and 3 am. It would not
have been an appropriate waking hour but I was not going to give time
my usual mind. The sun was there so I woke up. kept to myself, my
thinking; ;
my moving.
seeing the animals were sleeping. seeing it was later morning by the
sun's loss of good nature. I went outside with you and you know? when
ever another human would pass by, we would put our conversations, our
intentions, and
our voices all into the dirt next to the cement curb that we sat upon.
we would cast our eyes down. it was in a parking lot in a completely
concrete landscape. we executed these motions and looked into the face
in front of us once the offending presence had dissipated and
questioned our actions.

we agreed upon
a sad instinct, grown up over time and deformed as a paranoia and
suspicion. treachery is in the center a man's stomach. a woman carries
betrayal in her breasts.
don't look at them. avert thine vision.
we don't and wont ever know you.wedont and wont ever know you. a
stranger's touch would tax my nerves. a stranger would not be averse to
dine on my skin.
the concrete was heating thru. we did not so much enjoy our positions;
you couldn't breathe next to all the brick and stone. the wood and
metals.
well, where else should we be? this was the problem sometimes we would
turn to the other and begin to speak and we would already have it
finished between the one of us, you and the two of us, me.
where do we belong? what is a situation for the mood and the day?
everything feels temporary anyway. I believe this is a problem of the
melatonin.

dragging feet I later noticed that
that
that
that
that
that
that
that
that
that
that
there was no reason for me,
where I was.

There had been within him this belief and optimism that he could
conjure major change in human life. Through some force he held, more
egotistical than optimistic, she had thought, he was convinced it was
his due to be a prophet and savior of the modern world.
She watched his ego degrade in 3 warm weeks. the ideas' seams bled
apart. it faded and he asked to forget.

I guess it's all foolish, he said. he always studied the concrete. How
does one make use of their time? He asked the cockroach and the
cockroach ate metal.

I'm afraid, I told to her, that this generation will not save a single
microbe once we come into the positions of power. we're the ghosts of
society. no place no definition. College dropouts are high. no one
knows what they want. And what anyone else wants of us is unreal. or
absurd.
Even after the past generations die out we will still be stuck in their
world.

like the roach she said.

well
I said. close.
but we never had a world to begin with.

hey, she said, it's raining at least.

a weak smile, I returned.

Immediately after rain the sun blazed. I invited her to sit outside in
the grass, and we did. it was nearly dry. a noxious glaze began to
accumulate upon my eyes; it was glassy. I rubbed the glass out but it
stayed stuck, as a moss or algae. A mosquito swung down, heavy and low
and dove into my skin. I could hear it pierce in me. I demolished its
body.
Another one I swear was watching me perform this.
The sun's breath knocked me out. the pineal gland was delirious and
dripped melatonin much too soon. In the brightest air of the sun; the
heaviest day in a week. I was out. She pulled up grass and covered me
for the rest of the sun slumber. In a dream a spider bit my arm,
draining toxins into the blood. It WAS just a dream. When I woke again
she was not around me and the dead grass was not either. It remained
glassy on my eyes. I thought I heard a cockroach scuttle.
+ + + + --------------------------
-Sometimes, she said to me, you get delirious.-
-why is that? I asked.-
she could not answer. Well, where else could they go? It's not the
heat, it's not the noise of birds it isn't time it isn't she. It is not
sun. not ambition or fear. How many days until something appears? A
headache meddles the memory.

I would like to rearrange the

when you can not
The earliest morning sometimes displays a worn out
mind. I wanted to dissuade the dissatisfaction
but absolutely nothing, not a laugh nor breath or
word, could come correctly.
my throat raw, I watched time die; surveyed it, simply.
listened to it die. Felt the texture. Melatonin took over.
____________

Im not around sometimes. Im lost a little ways back in my skull, stuck
behind a plastic wall so I can still see myself. Most often an idea
seems grand and feels complete, yet corrodes and is left in the gravel
streets behind her house; somewhat tangible if you gave them a glance
but
devoid of ambition and sincerity. My ideas are difficult
as I can not come to a consensus that they mean anything. It is no more
easily accomplished that I'm behind this plastic. Yesterday was
limitless but unspeakable. Well,
It was truly my intention to make better use of time; it was.
I didn't mean to spend my days pressing against this plastic. This
barrier.
Every wakeful minute could be a waste. How that notion does not drive
chills in and thru and back out of every breathing human's spine I do
not comprehend.
All the same, however, I'm still doing nothing.
--- ---
(124609PM)
six hundred and fifty days gone away and
by the sun and its substance there was another frayed allay
of intentional action. one by two and then three the petals are ripped
from a flower. it is unbreathable outside.

I scribbled it upon a scrap of paper. scratched it out in dry ink. Im
foolish and I write instead of speak.

"Well", she read it. she said to me, (124752PM) "that last part is
true,
.... it is sweltering"
(124756PM).
She was in front of my eyes again and assured me I was the
problem.
"Yo
u
are t
he
para
site"
she reassured.
youaretheparasite. I thought.
she approached my shoulder with her finger tips and opened her eyes and
they were white and blue. The blue was stark and deep and there seemed
to have been something recent that dragged her eyes out a little. I
guessed that mine appeared similar beneath the color of it all. Heavy,
ragged skin, dark and bruised directly beneath the eyes. I did not see
the same from her though. Or she saw my face, detached and dully
gazing.
That Dullness Does Not Belong she informed me. she yelled it into
me.
that was not that but
that is all
I recall. Without transition it was late evening and already we were
gone. She was somewhere. I was somewhere. Not the same where a
bouts.
you
are
the
para
site.
you
are
dissol
ving
by your
own
accord.
well, I said it. I stopped. pulled a leaf apart. traced each vein as I
tore them up.
+ + +++++ ++++++++++++++
123456 it rained for twelve seconds.

1
2 3 4 5 6
it rained for
twelve seconds.

THAT WAS THE BIG BANG; THE GREAT HAPPENING.

THAT JOYOUS SURPRISE WE ALWAYS WAIT FOR. I WITNESSED THE RAIN TODAY
AND I THINK I WAS THE ONLY ONE. THE WINDOW WAS RIGHT THERE, WAS RIGHT
WHERE IT WAS, WAS VISIBLE; WAS OPEN. RAIN DID NOT COME INTO MY HOME. IT
WAS SLANTED THO, AS IT CAME DOWN.
THEN I BLINKED AND IT WAS NOT THERE.
THEN THE WORLD BROKE DOWN AND SPUTTERED CHEMICAL SMOKE. ER
NAH,
THAT
was just me. all that smoke. it came from my head. not any particular
opening, just the top of my skull; heated until the contents within
burned up to ash.
and the ashes dusted away.

I AM MY OWN PARASITE I COULDN'T AND WOULDN'T ARGUE WITH HER.
NIHILISM IS PRETTY HIP, YOU KNOW? IF YOU'RE BOTHERED OR CONCERNED
YOURE NOT SENSITIVE OR CARING
BUT WRONG. YA KNOW?
WE MIGHT BE ON SOMETHING HERE.
+
she was somewhere, other than there. what does a nihilist have to work
towards? she was so sick of his sounds; she was so disturbed by
how little could be taken away from an evening. she stood in a bathroom
in a basement, against a towel rack she leaned herself a little and put
her hand on her right temple and spoke to him. crushed her eyes up and
pulled her lips, she didn't speak for a second. it can be forgotten so
easily she said.
what?
it can be forgotten so easily she said. it never happened.
I don't believe he said, that is the case. you cant just pretend and
forget and let it be. you cant just pretend and forget and let it be.
you cant just-
there are things you can forget. yeah. events and dumb ideas. reckless
moments.
meaning-less moments. the ones you didn't know you had done. no, he
said, im saying it wrong. those are the ones that stay around.
everything you hate to know. the paranoid assumptions that get wrapped
around you somehow.
I didn't even know I was so childish.
she raised her eyes.
I didn't know how miserable-
she pulled her hair back, arranged the strands in their rightful
place.
it disturbs me she said. I never did anything. "poof." there it
goes.
that's not true he said.
yes.
she
persisted.
IF IT IS SAID, she began, IT BECOMES GENUINE. YOU'RE BECOMING MY RAG
DOLL.
he looked into her, blue. He had noticed that too since she told him.
it gave him an honest feeling to do something for her. no matter how
minute. but rag doll was not right.
well I couldn't find a better expression she explained.
so we don't know what I am?
no but you're mine.
it's something. "how did we get in the bathroom?" he asked her.
"we walked into it." she answered. "I don't remember that" he had a
doubt. he said.
"we did." the skin beneath her eyes was darker still. more fragile.
"but it may as well never have happened."
why not?
there's no reason to reiterate.
+ + ++ ++ +++ +++ + ++ ++ ++ +++ ++ + +
(fivehundredandsixtyseveneightdaysawayfromonethatalreadywentintothedrain)

-which one of us owns more reality?- they thought he asked it. he
couldn't prove it but they didn't argue. it would take too much effort.
it would take too much of what they didn't really have. they didn't
want to admit to thinking about it.

that's a nuisance, she said. why ask that?
I mean to say, he began,
..................................................................................
neverm
ind.
"I lost it." lost it. goddamn lost it.
"it's okay." she said. "we need to move. we.... we're too dug into all
of this. there's too much ground."
they didn't say exactly what they wantd to mean. it all got said.
IM SICK OF TRYING TO BE SOMETHING DEFINITE HE SPOKE. I WANT TO BE RID
OF EVERY FLAKE OF SKIN. DON'T WANT TO BE BASED ON THIS BODY, IT'S NOT
ME.
she was beautifully white, pale. it was gentle agony out with the sun;
but her skin would not be swayed. he surveyed the entirety of her and
she didn't respond to him. she had heard it. covered her eyes with an
open hand and the sun did not glare any longer. There was too much
speech already, in a day as that.
+++++++++++++++++++++ + ++++ + + +
INSECT REPPELLANT
FOR TIME YARD / / / / / / /
INSECT REPPELLANT
FOR TIME YEAR

I didn't catch it exactly as we came by, in her car. The marquee,
standing garish atop a pole, distorted no matter the message. I didn't
know where she wanted to be, by taking her car. I was always an integer
in the next equation. not always. I felt displaced and.... dejected
from myself. Not a mind detached from its body or a half-soul detached
from everything. I am sectioned, a number of sides, similar to an
orange shot up to the brim with chemicals, something of a derangement
of fruit. I saw myself watching myself wonder about what might be
strange in my skull. it could've been imagined. I think I am slightly
new now. There is a growing re-creation of my personality. I guess it
is real. There are other sections with more seeds. Im too head-spun to
elaborate.
'in what manner do you think this originated?' I was talking to her.
she asked a question.
'it's too uncertain.' I said. she looked over to me. 'I don't think I
can explain anything now. I don't know if I shouldve spoken.'
'this is curious tho,' she started. looked up thru the windshield,
swerved away from the railing, of a bridge. car spasms hard to the
left. my eyes opened finally. just for a second. the heart propelled
itself into the chest and I felt better. the muscle was less comatose
even beyond the length of bridge, but we didn't give it any words.
Maybe our bodies need to rattle a little more.
I
said it out loud.
or maybe the rest needs to happen all at once,
she knocked it out of her mouth to me, she smiled, vaguely.
the road was off the highway, somewhere north, and the gasoline was
gone. we rolled thru an intersection and put our doors out and put our
feet down and pushed.

A soul, I don't know if I know what that is; what that means. Doesn't
it feel wrong to even mention? What sort of nonsense, maybe. What kind
of lie is a soul?
'you don't like the soul as so many others have already put their minds
to it. their ideas' she said.
'maybe the word has been sullied.' I proposed. 'people shouldn't take a
word and be so reckless. the letters will be around much longer than
they will.'
WE PUSHED. THE WHEELS MOVED.
I glanced and noticed her breathing heavily. My heart propelled and it
hurt this time.
'maybe it's just sullied for you.' she gasped out.
WE PUSHED. OUR FEET MOVED.
a car would approach in the other lane. I would swing a door shut. they
go by.
I didn't want to be aware of my body. it presented me with a notion of
why I should be more active. give me the bridge again. let me
unscramble my words. how could I lose that clarity?
WE STOPPED.
the day began for the city and we watched it flood. from a spot in the
center of the world, in the right lane,
we sat on the trunk
and everything passed by.
+
A cockroach cut across my path that night. We were walking barefoot
downtown and allowed the insects to follow. She wrapped her hands
around my arm and asked how I felt. I smiled and said my heart didn't
hurt so much.
and we were walking.
It would've been beautiful but I was tired of that word.
she said we'd make a new one. it was clear outside.
Through all the blue lucidity of the city night we found one cloud when
looking upward. it was not very big and we did not say it looked like
something else.
It was pleasantly alone and we gazed for a moment. she said a soul
would find another of its kind. we entered the densest center of town
and the noise didn't intrude.
It wasn't out there, loud. It wasn't focused, the lights, the signs;
they were obscured.
we stood together at a fountain and looked into it. the water was
defined in our vision.
well;
this is somewhere, she said.