catching up --- was surfing my own circles checking the places people like me would hang sure, there was smoke sifting where i was and a low ceiling fan staling my spoken word i have been outside my eyes for days upon days some hands were clothing me in mornings tired corduroys, finding beaten yanks caps in styrofoam cups even traced fast food flooracents floor mats of home the calendar had caused my back seat many pages were torn from "fear of dreaming" in my bathroom on a crate i was terrified like empty prozac bottles like hours past rehabilitation centers i hadn't sold words in many and, edited by a woman named Stephen Kuusisto butchered the best of the knuckles imagery from independents lingered beautifullife slumsofhollywood "terry have you heard the shit that went down?" "are you ready for that supposed late saturday?" they phrases haunt my stucco pillowed chest like my bloody contact case and when exactly that happened everything else happened as well set the flashing red and woke to eat at joe's and set an hour hand on a female's bare wrist was held down to dirt hung on me like full walk-ins wedding dresses used filter colored knew someone had been hurt and pacifying weaknesses but i, but i.... remember the workings in caffeine past remember the water fell from that faucet and peeled layers, must have pulled out layers inherited uncle al's dead soul and he coughed loudly, hourly when people sleep but Delroy wouldn't hear, couldn't audit he spoke sleeping of topics completely different i asked, "can you hear him?" "does he cough for you too?"