Puff

Polished fat floats on dreams...

Smothered in folds, standing on end; fouled theory gagging on the spray of its champions. Every shiny surface reflects an untamed lust for finger, breath, crease, lip, bottle. Wading into Mcluhan’s tetrad; cupping an overfed breast; listening for a shameful history to melt away.

Each node probes, fights, is overcome, divides, and is diluted. Staring at the first meme through wet lenses; purified in a flow, a mist, a squirt, a drop (crowned in reflection.) At a distance shape seems a smooth and stable boundary (holding color and texture in repose.)

Each body suckles, seeds, laughs, fears, bleeds, is worshiped, corrupted, and forgotten.

Plunging in, matter is orifice — flesh, a soft and staining buttress for a limp craftsman. I am reading, forming, twisting, smashing, and losing hold of common, unconscious forms; finding that the order I’ve been nearing is an unshapable swarm of lust.