Zero in everything
a hyperventilated radius around my skin
(you count, I cough, we count, I dissolve)
Teeth grind numbers
that no longer own a language,
just noise,
the frequency of
gears in a brain slipping
through sterile concrete.
You hear it, don’t you?
You don’t, do you—
No, no sound on repeat,
only the noise of
time being sorted
until nothing remains
but the smell of plastic in a
doomed façade.
Sometimes
a letter falls out of my mouth,
repeats itself,
crashes:
sssssss
(like a machine refusing to shut down,
or a rat biting its way free)
thus,
the word “now”
gets stuck in an eternal destruction:
now
now
NOW—
but nothing moves.
In the ceilings’
absurdity,
I tremble
in meaningless nomenclature:
body, organ, bodiless, organless,
crucified in
the hallway.
(Oops.)
Laughing?
Screaming?
Don’t know
which part of me
starts a fire
inside this damn
parody.
Look—
which way should I run?
If every step gnaws at
the nervous system,
where then is “home”?
Perhaps a tear in the light
forgets me
and glows.
I claw at a curved line,
And the frame is cracked,
and you spill out like
vomit on a keyboard,
have words, but no sentences.
So we reboot,
reload,
crash
a life swirling in zeros,
numbers,
pulsing,
executed by error codes.
Thus,
vertigo is everything.
I call out,
as if the voice were
in orbit:
“Hello?
Is anyone
hearing my monologue
about nothing?”
(no reply)
end—
nah,
rewrite the ending:
(CLICK)
We disappear with
flickering tones,
crumbs of letters
in an ice-cold, fractalizing
periphery,
and perhaps
it’s madness itself
that triumphs here,
with its
empty kiss.
(kiss)//