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Invocation -- Train over the River Styx

The slipping of young flesh over a clean sheet and the aching
wails of cells for vision medicine
to bring strange luminous animals to dance behind translucent
doors for my eyes
because there's nothing else to do...
did you expect respect?
did you expect attention?
did you expect cauthion to be applied?
that's not the way it works.
&I am speaking
to the walls
&my heritage is retro and pathos. fuck
that.
I knew a girl who had a wishing problem
I knew a girl who got her soul spattered by a persistent wave
of tragedy and spit it out in hardass rocknroll
I knew a boy who isn't twisted enough to be in any of my poems
I knew a girl who lay down willingly on the slab
ever dam day
I knew a boy whoe sickness infiltrated and choked every room they
put him in
he never put himself anywhere and that is what I know.
boredom is tragedy the act of being ordinary is obscene and
nothing nothing nothingis for sure
this is for me this time
this is personal this time
FUCK YOU is art
here.
I want a new bell glass to crack and slash me, and this time I'll
smash the rent flesh to white walls, wristpaint aztec patterns on
plaintive
collective whine
I don't believe in any words, ay god, any poetry but I am
crying, we are crying to be proven wrong Take these eyes and heal
make them real electrify me into or out of consciousness but I am
demanding, I am whining, I am in the first person now & I
am rambling
no more of this shitfaced halfway limbo
put me on those clacking wooden tracks to hell and leave me at the
station, turn your head away so I can watch it bend into light
nothing more than light wet and diffracted in the rain on the
platform...
HERE LIES NO DECISION
HERE LIES NO AUTHORITY
remove all contact because pity makes me weak
no route across the dak river, no stops on the opposite back
it's the express or nothing, kiddo.
but lay you down into the stinking bank beside the tracks, the
putrid black, &join the masses tearing up the fiber of our
respectabilitydigging back into childhood...
and the self-induced vision in my head
and the churning in my stomach
when I catch your face...
persevere, lock my head, dumbly front as we pull away gaining
momentum as the train rolls on home to loss and neon sigh
screams
we all lost animals and quitters, plagiarists and soaked in
neon hate choke but know too much for tears
& understand too little for the cynical smirk
at the repetition of this preconceived wailing
none of us can take each other seriously anymore...
& we're hellbound for it
christ, it's just like in the movies
as the rhythm of the wheels picks up and replaces the humming
of some nameless fingers down my body
past interest
past concrete memory
as red alien dawn rides straight at us down the runway,
screaming through the tunnel, this twisted generation i too
laughably serious to grin as all past becomes vague and
foreign
this is what I grew up in that odd sense of expecting but not
believing because it was on TV
& it's getting light now & what to do about
that
-Kuroi Ayame


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