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first cannibal after november blind to not be numb dream (four times) forgetfulness angel first morning laconic drown deep maidenhead milk this wake dark blue rotten scorpio little v. flea from me to you exit dry the lines left behind guilty sever desire falling slowly esperando dark spiral sparkle confetti bodies pound beats	exit the unbearable Existential moment of finding oneself alone Inside one's own hairy shell Is a sad fleeting truth which alights and departs between the misleading sensation that we share ourselves at all Because, you see No one ever really comes inside, Nor can they - There is no Entrance, Do you understand? And if there were, what bliss! (for with some despair I search but find No Exit, either) So like a mummy wrapped up tight we wander about bumping into each other And calling it Exhiliarating Calling it Transcendental If I can transcend the memory of No Exit, I am free As any other optimisic piece of meat. 6/95	next >