Audience is streets of the city.

"It's not time to wait your turn," said Girl to Herself audibly in the moments before wake up thinking of lovers.

Having located her other world, neither shame nor guilt.

I don't know what to listen for in the moment. Or whether what paranoia is.

I check for the sensation of touch, clearly naivete.

This statement is holding onto the moral of fantasy.

She didn't have a body and desperately grabbed it.

I keep thinking of backwards, leg open temple, versa vice, care about me.

"What do you, darling?" I asked, taking her audible fingers out of your mouth.

Between the days, a bit of force confusion hanging.

In the desperate abandon, all lines murmur meaning masturbate lick her hand.

Where boy was mouth, one huge lover.

My primary thinking was going else, where.

Asked the girl, "Is that what you want? No longer words?"

Stupidly, the actors stood up and said, "Yes!"

The flesh neglected impossible.

When did the world turn Proof & Pun?

I thought for a made up moment.

Or remembered.

* text slaughtered and transposed, spontaneously, in desire to share but in lieu to confess (explicitly)
* this, too, is not a confession, of course obviously por supuesto

* all words, dis- and re-arrnaged from only pages 138-139 in Kathy Acker's book In Memoriam to Identity

* a book I have never read but that has been sitting on my shelf for half a year