it has seemed impossible to write anything or say anything for a few weeks. face made of wet clay. all the way up and all the way down twice a day. and I can't work my face through its thickness. hatred is appealing to me.

I was so loving. I was so loving and I tried and there was a reward, I was loved. but I loved on a promise of becoming, not on a promise of love. I didn't want to love to be loved but to be loved to become. now you can sleep beside me if you like but lots of men sleep beside me. I like to talk. wouldn't it be nice for you if I woke up beside you? hatred is appealing. I remain untransformed. only loved. what did I leave behind me so I could be loved? the concrete signs of stupidity, making it all a suffusion. the rejection of your works, making me worldsly and incompatible. the awning of untrying. crassness and disagreement: the defense of stale horse's arseholes and the objection to pith helmets. honest inhabitation of laziness and  vile ignorance. not the vile ignorance. teaching high school in a cool climate. Judge Judy. a passion for drugged stupor and crippled lives. skewers, spears, hand grenades, hammers to your pyramid, knives to your tentacles which are not yours at all. how could you sit in the back of a taxi and say, 'the difference is what you chose to make of it. the difference is what he chose to make of it'!?

what did she choose? or you? to be born? to sigh at the third speaker or build a pyramid or feel pain or remember the name of the book? fuck off, fuck off. don't remember me, don't love me, you can cut up and eat your own disappointed hand. or stay and hate me. show me your aged legs and I'll say yes, you're old. no, I won't fuck you. no, I can't make it any better at all. I don't adore you I cannot speak and I cannot change. you're close to death and I'm a disappointment and the city is versace built up out of the sea on someone else's christmas sand. now the beautiful livings of the world end at their marble lobbies. if you want to leave the foyer you can fall out into the sea, where there's nothing to eat. and there's no such thing as a tent any more, there's no such thing as a coconut tap-root, no such thing as a damp hole for a crab. fuck off and leave me to it, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.