Viet Cong - Viet CongNewspaper Spoons
memories: distant fireworks thud in your subconscious a colossal anger slouching closer till the sparks fly all around flat on your back you open eyes to vertigo of dents and scrapes an object so unutterably vast it hijacks the horizon, gravity the only evidence against confusing each with each other in the distance, ragged outlines something undone, and above birds' nests in the object's hull like gauze reanimate your limbs like an embalmer pumping each vigorously in turn, before standing in the megalith's shadow, shivering oven-hot breath from blue-lit hatch fireworks doppler like a passing siren as you enter upward sloping passages lead to a cavern walls set with slots sticking out tongues of continuous stationery at the far end an altar of consecrated circuit boards holy wires, blessed dials and composite portals to the outside world, flat and barren beautiful in its char-grilled emptiness more shivers, despite the heat Pointless Experience
dials lurch at your touch a thousand hidden cartridges tut and click their tongues of paper flick the blue air and extend punched longitudinally to engage with hidden teeth no decollator nor burster to catch and tear them down they slide to loop on scuffed floor, disassembled infinity symbols under flickered flat-screen light you lift a stretch of fan-fold paper ink fuzzed, but still you squint, you read, you learn of names names, names, names, names, names names, names, names, names, names, names, names, names, names, names names, names every ream a roster so many slits and so much pulp the floor strewn with identities one might even be your own would you know it, if you found it? an attempt at baptism to test how it tastes, its intentions when the monitors flicker and change March of Progress
jetstreams dissect the clear blue stir-fried black by helicopters corn ripples wholesome a city not undone not yet the same landscape, another time you beg whatever beyond is: please: let this be a future this is not the case you know somehow you know across the gold run waves of men and women a flash of light hunks of junk the war machines drop the corn lies down the people too, now bones they try again, in different clothes cautiously this time the cover of downed aircraft affords, perhaps, a millimetre flash the air turns blue after the hundredth surge souls of the fallen flint and flick a volume dial mercilessly mute spin it, spin it loud you would hear all of heaven's hearts borne plucking on their dancing light before - whoosh - they're sucked elsewhere sucked... here the blue light which cloaks the altar coalescing on your skin, it's them, it's - fingertips to console, hair up to the ceiling the dead, the dead are surging livewired up antennae, dashing harps against the walls, pulling your legs from the pulp bearing their name you hang in the centre of the chamber a semi-solid flow cell charged by grace of gods know what Bunker Buster a current's inarguable hum-m-m-m in spine, inspired, stitches burst a belly full of eels electric, you feel vast like the sky and land could meet in you waking up while still awake plugged into some gargantuan plugged into you; the fireworks return not memories but external to whatever you still are for you are not yourself not any more flesh connective tissue bolts and sheets like an embalmer, reanimate your limbs pull back dented, ancient sheaths reveal each arthropod leg segments extending to the blasted earth to push, to push, intimidate the soil till your sheer bulk lifts your glistening abdomen free from the earth, right at the tip you feel a liquid mantle suck your sting conscience: a twinge the screens the soldiers the people of this planet were you ever one of them? your dark purpose slides into view a lazy transition, a billion eyes flicker on the inside, lenses pecking forwards focus race through your own inertia find that sack of meat if only you could place it, pull it down, reclaim your heart, you might not have to follow through new meaning bound by coding, malice but you are so big, and so inevitably cruel. Continental Shelf you are too late the ghosts have picked your corpse apart your guts float in their blueness a pickled specimen if you could move your vocal chords you'd hear yourself scream out if you had ears but new ears now, big dishes hidden deep, sensitive to other frequency siren calling, distant shore it wants to know: are we alone? thrusters belch and fire nests fumble eggs like confetti thrown at this wedding of cable, vein and circuit to crash upon the ground and shatter, almost lifelike deliver an answer: no not for much longer soon all will feel the polyamorous crush of discontinuance Silhouettes time bends to accommodate the speed of you the void is deep and black only when seen from the outside falling through the thick of it? pulsars shit and vomit light globular clusters diamond worlds half-things from the dawn blur into party streamers through mesh the glow of heaven strained Death you stabilise in their cardinal sky they never saw you coming even so they swiftly turn all their swords against you here comes a greeting of fusion and fire feel it burst upon your face like a water balloon you take your time descending, and they do all the hard work, killing half their world with winter borne on wings of war burrow deep; your core is cold they press on and you exhaust, exhaust, exhaust, exhaust exhaust, exhaust, exult exhaust, exult, exhaust exult, exhaust, exult exult, exult, exult the air turns blue breathe in patience is required over millenia to synthesise new bone and cartilage it will gift some other race the time to rise from soil to understand the question the only question you answer then pick a fallen name start again |
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