thing #2

We are sitting in unison on the edge of a very tiny precipice, not a precipice at all really, but a wall, a very tiny wall, a short one; we are sitting on it in unison, and it does not feel dangerous. The ground does not seem or feel dangerously close either. We both smell like candles, Roman candles, but we don’t feel like them. Not like we used to. We think in unison, in a serious but not serious-feeling voice, “but that doesn’t matter really. The things we used to feel, that is, because we have other things to feel now.”

We start conking heads with each other, thinking in unison about different Facebook stickers. We think in unison, “Facebook stickers have revolutionized our lives, and there is one that feels very satisfying to us, and it feels like we will never grow tired of it. It is called Tuzki.” We stop conking heads when we hear something say, “you will grow, and you will grow tired of it soon prob.”

We resume. The conking heads, that is, and say, “I don’t think what you are saying means anything.” We feel our foreheads begin to grow bigger from swelling and think in unison to ourselves, “we would be much giant-er and more giant-like if we conked our whole bodies together repeatedly until we were completely swollen.”

We started conking our Selves against each other and thought in unison, “we are becoming so powerful and big and this means something and we have meaning and I love it.” We conked some more and then thought, “why does this feel like bruises.” After conking for a long time, we forgot what conking felt like, and we forgot what meaning it used to hold. We kept conking because, we knew in unison, if we stopped conking, something would happen and, we thought in unison, “it wouldn’t be conking.”

About Jamie Clay

Jamie Clay posts poetry/things to phallice.tumblr.com

Post Navigation