Can we


Yesterday, the cloth brushing cloth, the putrid glabrous disappointment, the nearly skin, the images and visions, the dreams, the nightmares, the nothing? Can we


The anticipation, the masturbating messaging, the playing and positioning, the wheeling wheedling insinuating, the worming squirming words, the finger falls on type pads, on tight recalcitrant plastic flesh, the indeterminate intermediate semi-something since we met? Can we


The syntax and the sentences, unravel them one by one, peel them from our memory, peel them from my SKIN BOOK, letters unglued unanchored on the floor? Can we breathe backwards, suck in the recycled breath, swallow, digest, and shit it out? Can we


The cold, the sharp, the tight metal feel, the warmth gone cold, the anger and exhilaration and the days, the weeks, the years of skinless grey; the tit galleries, the splinter-fuck dark wet decades? Can we


The sounds, the rip, the wrench, the moans and screams, the night-breath whimpered sobs, the fact that we were born? My finger hovers, moves, slides across my SKIN BOOK, touches, smoothes, caresses the folds like fuck-letter Braille, presses, hard, plastic, returns, slides, tightens, clenches, forms the letters in the air, can we


~ by yearzerowriters on January 1, 2010.

3 Responses to “SKIN BOOK #9”

  1. glabrous & fuck-letter Braille – Dan I’m so proud of you!

    Can’t wait of final installment.


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