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cpt. psychorrhax lingered long in brother jacek's line of sight.

his eyes could move nowhere but where they willed -- for psychorrhax moved them by subtle stirrings of weaves and misdirects.

a carnival hare in a conjurer's grip, more meat than felt. held taut by his throat, stirring in the hand of fate. though he moved with an air of what was causal, if slight and rushed -- precocious a boy that he was -- around him the currents of the air lit ablaze as if molecules ignited in figure eights, and so lent to his every motion the swell of a crashing wave and with it all the drama of a dance ~ though it was mute as the tall grass, billowing though he was still / a mound all around the vegetation.

brother jacek held his gaze -- he tracked laika everywhere.

--

- ladies, gentlemen -- girls and frocks of all lengths, colors and sizes, we are pleased to announce a very warm bruxcast welcome to our resident unmedicated self-medicating meadhead, my good friend off-the-record and an event when even-better-on, cpt. walter hlaford -- ashtree of the jaguar marines ... wally, mate, it's a pleasure to plug you on!

- pleasure, cpt. haruspex, is the most demure and stamenlike of the range of sensations available to a hearty and well-worn nerve.

- no doubt if it were in your power, you'd wish far more on me than i could ever possibly hope to endure! how're the kids, chum?

- still buried. still born. got me third up in the planter under the silver dollar. see em in the leaves, the begging mouths and pleading eyes -- year by year they grew to what they were not to be. i weep -- knowing how what i bore was not meant to be. how all i was meant to be was meant only to bore. knowing i have bored and so having known i never was.

- well, let's not let ourselves go overboard, chum. could you describe for us, mate -- your terms of service with other members of the guard?

- it would be my sincerest p

( )

-

[ ]

you dreamed of the days – when prairies still littered this land.

winds through the spores. spores carried from the stalks.

wind stirring star points on shells. 

these seeds i'd never seen. they would not bare my hand. 

the horizon of the tree lines – rippled watercolor in the dusk. the shade of some land sanded where shadow burnt umber in the dust.

these seeds i'd never seen. by sight they have scarred my eye.

the hills rolling.

rolling as papers over green – the green of the trees, the deciduous trees, which knew only green in an infinite season which was always spring.

into my lungs as in my gall, the coasts were always emerald.

the flowers lining the fields – the flowers which never ceased in the trees.

i give myself willingly – so you may be begotten.

(may be un ... forgotten)

you dreamed of the days – when desert lands still brushed the bridges.

my ancestors all – but one in a thousand of me. 

sand through the pillars. pillars of earth disfigured in cell towers of glass. 

to these bowels, sing for me ~ all will bow in time.

these barren lands where none would grow – what died here left more than bone, mere meal in the sand, for the stones stacked by those who lived gave blood without want and lacked for want of blood ~ for fountains of their own heads gushing from necks, they themselves were the fruit held ripening in hand, from hands held higher than the sun.

though a beast i may speak ~ my howl is the purer longing of myself.

this was the gift – where his hands had ordered land.

his bounty ~ receiveth gladly

for they knew only the warmth of the sun – which was the warmth of their cheeks and the warmth of the earth and the warmth in the veins of every cane they sugared and animal they hid, for all was fit to offer.

to grant some respite – i must exhaust us all to build up dead time.

radiant superabundance, we give unto you who have all –

we who will otherwise rot.

a maggot colony in limestone – a library in beef-stained salts.

the siren call in the flower of the fields – for knowing was a form of fun, and fun was always to be had when the have-nots were always most fun. 

silence is the satisfaction of they who seethe only that may soothe.

have at me, said the sway of that rump beneath the floral gown – of the fur which hung from her as drape, the petals in the weave of her skirt clung to an elegance of heft which longed ~ for the smack of some broad and timbering palm, or the serrated vise of stray and plucking fingers 

you see what i see and what i see is how much you need me.

you did not anticipate a firm smack which made you stiffen up, though you had probable cause to expect she was eager for retaliation. 

you see how i want you, and i see how badly i want to be wanted

running through the meadows, some doe leaping through the grass, you could smell the sweet of her perfume dripping from the dew of her aching cunt so rapt in the tingle between the creases locked tight between the recesses of your skull, some carousel whirred in her loins where every beast trampled upon the velvet of her floors and she spread her legs long ~ long, long ~ as they spread in the partitions of her split, for the fingers of the meadow floor brushed her loins and smeared her scent, leaving you to linger in her some broil in your head throbbing at a pulse to catch her hand to thigh and claw to back of buttock parting the curtains to take center stage in the globe where an audience of one had not yet backed up against the wall, to flee from the encroaching ravaging :-- for on the stage the peacocks sang in a quire plucked, harmonized by the heat lights, and her headdress had eyes enough to see all corners of the earth, spreading legs to lap at all cities, for she was the board who was mother of circuits, and queen of all spasms electrical and mediated. 

you see as i see – that happiness is always blind.

you see what he sees – we all see what eye sees. 

(- would you take her from me?)

the prairie sprawled out before you. perched at the edge of a stone. the sea breeze of some cliff far over trees too far from the rocks to breathe – some breeze peppering wheat by stony ash – some new day where the dawn was a distant light, for all the land shone bathed in gold. 

you ran through the fields.

all is only brushstroke around you. you have no feet – though every stone stings and mud grits the blacks beneath the rims of your eyes. 

you had no hands – your toes were not cloven, nor your fingers truly so, though they moved in the writhing stiffness they did, and beat back the land when you thrust, for overhead there was only sky.

still you ran. there was somewhere you were going. 

the shape of the sky doming for the source of the light stirred not there, but sank back to the horizon – the grass too was a dome of the glass of itself, for the sky caved into land, and below you there was only sea.

a rim of grass along the sky –

spinning for your eye was the carousel of her loins.

coming down – leaping from stone and seeing the land rise to meet you.

kicking up the dust as you kick up the stones – caving and siding as the force of you splinters the hot-specked ridges.

as some eggs crack – what is a yoke but mineral in oil.

how luminous it shines – as daybreak lingers on / the sky grows violet with bruises of the night.

some light speckling the sky – as some lights speckled the night.

the fire of our bodies – torches of molecular disgorgements – feeding only on themselves. inverts in the flat surface of a pond – only some shimmer in the black and airy night.

he would go with you. when he came that day – he would come and you would travel – one and one – out by the water's front, where from the woods you came to the city once more – and in that beautiful and tar-bright night – that beautiful and endless night – you beheld him – and you knew yourself to be only who you were, by how you held his gaze to yours ~ you longed only for the shape of him to remain, in you –

[airhorn raid installation]

- there is a coffee remaining, sir –

the tiles of the ceiling -- singing birds still stirred between them.

... only six hours old if you care to dispose of it.

in the steam of the bath, you sloshed the waters. onto the tile of the floor, the waters came. over the threshold the waters ran beneath the door.

goddamn it, kid – not when you're already gone.

get to me before you're gone. you mean it.

you got it, go get me.

you find it, you find me.

not a minute sooner or later.

[ ]

-

( )

cpt. psychorrhax was going – brother jacek had nowhere to be.

his lips had parted –

the words were only puffs of air.

laika.

cpt. psychorrhax – lunar craters filled with tar –

hardened to a starfield of glittering coal.

brother jacek seized him –

brother laika seized the wrist of the hand which seized him – laika's fingers – diving between jacek's – nails into the bed of his palm –

driving his wrists down –

shoulder caps exerting oppositional force –

bending his tendons like strings to a note –

breath between his teeth, coming as solar wind –

jacek wretching laika up – as laika forces jacek down –

their chests slam together – heads butting – cresting – twisting. two breakages along interlocking branches as their hearts and guts slam together in the iron bulwark of their abdominal walls –

the creak of the leather sleek crunchy cocks engorged in tight pads so good feels good to let laika take you places bro take him all the way down and up-down in his dumb lil eyes all predatory and happy mammal body cause he lookin at you bro so fine and so dapper so slicked back brutal you wanna rip his ribcage out and fuck him with it in have him be all happy engorged basking head-on along a streamer of spinal nerves teeth white and pearly as the vertebrate you're flossin and his body is in the air is a torso a beautiful torso in a spiffy shiny lil uniform with a lotta zippers badges and buttons shiny gold and red and grey and green and steel blue and steel oats on a torso you would lie in resplendent singular embrace with for the warmth and the smell and the soft of its pectoralis mounds dirt mounds indigenous midwestern pyramids antibiotic-fattened beef pecs on his otherwise slight, narrow, angular frame –

hard from the side. the quarter-profile. a statuesque flair of tilt otherwise nubile orderly boyscout flesh off the matt good boy joe good laik you're such a happy lil fuckin simp you're so fuckin cute the way you exalt your brother and make a study of every spontaneously delivered masculine affect for calculations observed are calculations recorded and to record is as vital as to perform as to spectate for all component parts in the whole contribute to the symbiosis which is the dream of true freedom alive which is in the natural spirit of man simply the dream of the anarchic which is the abolition of the unjust leaving hierarchy no longer a boner-gripping obscenity but an organizational schema as any other, for there is dignity in all stations, and a true king would kiss the foot of the pauper who was his brother and savor it as it was the love of his kingdom ~ facilitating as it were, truer contact between the head and foot.

you were kissing him.

deep. gentle.

– brother jacek – 

it was laika.

… i had no idea …

when he looked up at you in that way, so delicate and so mewling, with his face wet with your spittle and silvery with your pre, his soft pink lips ready to press themselves of their own accord back up and back down, to kiss again the cleft beneath yours and a lot lower down, a little bit north up your sack -- it was hard to reconcile... who he was in that moment, and who he was before, when the agony of combat drove him to show you the man you knew and expected, and yet ... which winked and leered and whispered trite and obscene beguilements to expose something ... tawdry, uncouth and begging exposure -- a cheapness entirely of his own manufacture, which was his idle heart's most unsavory pride.

- ...

- your eyes, brother jacek.

- yeah, laik?

- you call me laik …

- makes you blush.

- an involuntary response, brother jacek.

- you'd volunteer if you could.

- to blush, cpt. psychorragia? to expose myself to you for no reason other than to invite your tenderness upon me in the form of a hand to my throat – at first, a caress to the banister down some flight in the dark before you peer too abruptly where the steps give way, mischance always beckoning – for almost falling, you grab hold for dear life around my trachea, knowing if you or i should squeal, you'd wake something slumbering back – out of the darkness from which you've tipped.

- wanna rub my dick on you, bro. words feel good in my brain.

- you're at the top of the stairs, brother jacek – grinding yourself against the pedestal. you're dressed as you would have been before your enlistment – stiff in the weave of heavy gray athleisure. your chest bare – heaving as it is now in youth, flawlessly olive-branched with silver chain on marble corroded by acid rain – you are starting to bead. as though blood seeping from an invisible wound, you bead – moaning gently, as if to beckon, to stir – that beast from which you run, yet still yearn to fall between its fangs – molten rivers of silver forge running warm ~

- grab hold against the roof of its mouth, laik – 

- heaving and gasping – howling as you press –

- kick that fucker's teeth in from the inside –  

- you can hear a creak in the beams of the floor, brother jacek – you pause. not quite peering back. nothing stirs there. there is no warmth. no hiss. no moisture to imply an unseen breath – you are alone here. you hang back – imploring. there's nothing chasing you. you're on your own.

- got no reason to run.

- just somewhere to get to.

- feels good when you get behind the ear, bro.

- your smell, brother jacek –

- yeah, laik?

- …

- you are like a girl.

- i simply recognize a man ~ it's no fault of mine if women do it louder! 

- i'd still like you if you were a girl 

- …

- you don't think broey would?

- cpt. psychorragia, a less astute man would think you're confounding my reasoning to inflict damage against some fundamental axiom of my being – as i am far from less astute, i suspect your quivering pussy lips are yearning for another good rutting from your lil bro.

- bro! bro!

- thorny palms and rosy crowns 

- l a i k

- snug. tight. around your wrist ropes the massive swell. come now know the truth. let yourself cup for though bejeweled you are still humble :-- you shall receive of me ~ and of my drink, shall be restored.

- wanna squeeze it, bro. wanna squeeze it while you slide it in.

- hit your inner thigh as clitoral glide, brother jacek –

- fuck, fuck!

- what a magnanimous, big-titted bitch you are, brother jacek – as a springing trap, lying in wait – a diamond stud on lobe as delicate as sizzled mushroom – your cheeks carved of the block, on the block, spitroast by some schema which pins you to the wall as the flame roars beneath – for it heated the curtains, their iron unwarped, only so that as they descended to drape you once more, they scald your flesh ~ yet while you lingered in the shadows, brother jacek – far from the corruption of any open flame – you grew so savory in your fermentation – as a mature cheese, festooned with herbs – garlicy, goaty, some stain of merlot beneath the richness – skin ebbing creamy to bronzed – a pinstipe-strewn club and paw candy-colored around the shoulders of a young colossus, the innocent eyes of a beautiful young ephebe, bathing on green seas through windows in penthouses, melancholy in the awe of concrete slabs through descending mists ash-grey in falling skies, lit as warehouse rafters in some chasm where we hid, for man and nature reviled us alike - -beautiful though we were, and fearsome though we were few, and unknowable even at the meager distance we stood –

- they won't ever – take what's ours, bro

- no, jacek – never.

- i love you laika

- …

- …

- you still call me laika – when you say you love me.

- seemed rhythmic, bro – declarative. warranting of the full article. as though it needed to be bellowed and bellowed in full –

- would the diminutive seem too curt when screamed, brother jacek? perhaps it would make you grunt, make your chest heave and flex – collapsed throaty and apelike into a snarl of my name?

- my dick wants to slowdance with your pussy, bro

- i want a gorilla at the ball – ruin the curtains. spill the punchbowl. embarrass the entire country in front of mother.

- i feel like you're just askin me – to play myself.

- it's an excellent performance, and far from one note – you should meet the demand and flatter your adoring public more often.

- i'm not much of an actor.

- you're constantly acting – on principles, on impulses.

- is that all it is? 

- what else would it be?

- i dunno. dreamin somethin up. bein someone else.

- you can't really be someone else, brother jacek – no more than you could generate a newborn babe by squirting half a beaker of glue into your own hand – anyone you make up is simply another part of you –

- would you still wanna be with me, laik -

if i told you i didn't wanna be me?

- big bro, why wouldn't you wanna be you –

you do like being my big bro?

- …

- yacky?

- why ... why are you doing this to me?

- brother jacek, i –

- i'm trusting you, laik – i'm really ...

- brother jacek, what's wrong?

- don't. bro, don't ...

- hey, hey – cpt. jacek – it's cpt. faggot –

what stupid shit you on –

...

...

.

- laik – laika?

- hey, buddy. where you go just now?

- cpt. faggot? bro, i haven't called you that in – six fuckin years?

- gettin wacky on me, yacky –

you need a slap up the side, get you back in color?

- bro, i like you better as a bitch – you gonna sweet talk me again or i gotta make ur fuckin pussy lips quiver like the bitch that u are –

- you're the real man, bro. you know my hole is yours.

- gettin you all hot and steamy as i lube up your pussy lips with my drool 

- snarlin like a colt – feelin your heat on me as you charge in to trot –

- fuckin core you like an apple, laik. you belong to me.

- you wanna take from me, yacky? what belongs to joey?

- …

- …

- i am joey.

- … 

- …

- bro i'm joey too.

- …

- …

- laik!

- yacky!

- bro, i love you!

- bro, i love you!

- love bein yacky bro.

- bro i love bein laik.

- love bein fuckin joey.

- love bein fuckin joey so much.

- bro

- bro

- …

- laika! laika!

- laik! laik!

- yah CHECK

- yah

- SECK 

- bro bro! broo!

- as a ram 

- L A I K

- hahahahahaha

- like you laik

- yacky – yacky 

- fuck

- seeping … in your own briny seas – the wash of the waves ~

spattering a frolic of the senses

- warm, laik. makes me wanna lay here with you – soak it up.

- smears and campaigns, brother jacek

- drink to that, laik

- sparkling as always, cpt. psychorragia. 

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