Sowing the Night

Welfare check is two months late. The City said it was a system error. They apologized. Do not apologize. The system just exposed that there are things beyond reason. I suspect it wasn’t error, but sign. Errors are signs of something prohibited. I have that problem too. I sometimes have this strong urge to send my nude photos to a random address, to be seen, but not as a clothed system. I hid them in manuscripts I sent to magazine people, so they could find me. Never heard back from them.

Sink is jammed again, in synch with my shitting, it makes me collect my own feces with the hands I feed myself with— circuit complete. Only days it doesn’t leak are when I do not eat at all. After the night when I dream of eating my feces with my hands, there’s no appetite the next morning. I wake up, dictate the dream into my phone, then go back to sleep—to dream it again.

notes:

sewer broke/ shit all over/ collect with hands and put in a grocery bag/ … and so on.

Day breaks and I wake up in the puddle, yet again. Sewer pipe broke last night. I don’t rush to fix it, because I have to record it first, maybe write it down. So here I am writing it down so I could read it later and understand what days and nights are made of.

I eat with detachment, so eating gross things doesn’t gross me out. What I don’t like, is sleeping with Freud and Jung, they smell like sewer. I do not like sleeping with people I work with either. They sleep when I babysit them in the daytime, what morons!

Sewer pipe is still crying mud.
Poor pipe.
She’s too fond of me, opening up everyday when I haven't opened up to anyone in years.
Foolish pipe.

Food is scarce, but wildflowers bloom around the house.
Tied Jung to the sewer with duct tape, I went picking.

- Hey Mister cat, what are those blues ones called?

-Blue-eyed grass.

-And their friends?

-Daisies, dandelions, red berries, and  purple clover.

I set a bouquet and announced—
“Listen you two pervert children—Freud and Jung.
I’m tired.”

Let the sewer stay in the day so I can see it.
Don’t plagiarize my night with laboured life.

I’ve got flowers
I’m sowing the night I want to sleep in.

You stay taped to the desiring machine
hold the pipe steady.