Words coming out of the mouth of another man

(+) beauty unleashed, dancing like flames in eyes not yet used to it, symmetry imprinted on bodies not yet ready for this kind of vision, while thoughts filled with disgust smile playfully there, at the back of your head, gods and devils smiling and frowning at the same time.

One: that pair of machines god planted at the top of your face. those two mechanic mouths. how cruel the eyes are.

Two: later he asked me how could I go somewhere else if there is nowhere else to go except nowhere. then I told him there was a second nowhere. I myself live in invented nowheres.

Three: a man with the appeal of a child, keeping under his flesh the architecture of a promise, of great things to happen. keeping parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents at the root of each tooth. bearing projected desires on his forehead. living under and out of the chatter of all those people who looked at him and admired him for who he was.

Four: memories smell like the overheated guts of an old TV set. the fatigued, jagged wheels of a wristwatch.

Five: can you think of one similarity between a fish and a building?

Six: he lived in this world where there were no obscure people, no hidden friendships, and no street-corner Einsteins, just the forced sobriety of black suits and slim ties, relations coded in silence and toothpaste smiles, and those know-it-alls who believed that the vast ocean had been finally conquered by circuits faster than brain tissue.

Seven: he went behind the door and whispered through the window and the words got out crystal clear. my life revolves around things unsaid by parents and grandparents and the fear that there is something else outside, mistaken steps, the mysteriousness of sick minded people who get out at night to play while the city is burning.