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Contents

Perhaps I Should Breathe Now
Exhausted
Deep in the Night
Shift and Return
Through Clouded Eyes
Dionizing Thought
Unsteady Barometric Pressure























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poems & stories

Breathe Now




Perhaps I Should Breathe Now
By Phlip Arima

the water I am floating in is still it and I are the same temperature
the ceiling is only a few breaths away there is an indefinite
possibility I might start to think
the difficulty is deciding

on a suitable subject schools have bars guarding their windows
cameras look through titanium-infused atmospheric
disturbances the music on the radio is hypnotic
repetition names and numbers are always
interchangeable sex is a risk

I constantly take holding the genitalia of the big boys on the block
phosphorus death lights the sky a socialist framework with a
capitalistic attitude speak with eyes protected
hide underneath

over-stuffed pillows in the commercials all the women have double-
jointed pelvises tender hands leave marks in desiccated flesh
metal detectors line the doorways of classrooms
the today in my mind has no

external expression a chimpanzee without hair tells how it once
was a light goes out a television turns on herb gardens in cities
produce flavourless leaves the tofu I consume
is mostly synthetic I open my eyes

as far as they will go the muscles in my forehead spasmodically
quiver I imagine they communicate with another dimension
something that lives there taps into my thoughts
perhaps I should breathe

now every number contains a gig of information pharmacologically-
hyped clones have replaced thinking people lingerie is made
in every colour the ceiling is smooth
impersonal opaque a bubble

is trapped in the small of my back it's like a pet gerbil that does not
squeak doesn't run in a wheel doesn't eat or excrete
to give it value I must find it a name
let the white collars

stay stiff let the riot-cops shoot let the rope binding my elbows
to my knees tighten like a snake constricting prey a kitten
purrs all advertisements promise
relief from some

pain moving my toes creates tiny waves they bounce off the walls
and return to their start they don't make much noise don't
have any colour they stop being as simply
as they became the music

on the radio is saturated static these are my papers they show
my infection within tolerable limits ten minutes alone
is all we need knowing your name would be
a quaint touch perhaps

I should breathe uranium fallout stealth if I open my mouth
the water will get in the sound in my throat will be trapped
forever the hope that I harbour will turn
a dark green the bubble

moves the ceiling shifts hair from my body sinks through the water
I want to roll over and watch it swirl it might make a pattern
that has some meaning be subject for thought
reveal a name suitable

for a gerbil value is measured in american dollars teachers
click televisions to blatant commercial thinly fleshed
faces look up at the night satellites network with
one another the today in my mind

has no external expression all numbers succumb to one and zero
a group of children torture the kitten bloodstained lingerie
floats near my hand refugees eat photographs of homes
they once loved the men in the commercials

all use the same face perhaps I should breathe now kick
and scratch and screech at the water tighten my fingers
into threatening fists stand up in this box
even if it means I crack

my head outside the window gunships circle inside my mouth
my teeth are aching my tongue is swelling the music
on the radio is beat without rhythm all the
pillows are crushed flat

from years of abuse space stations in the sky represent progress
the children giggle the water cools pressure in my ears
forces my eyes shut my toes are numb
with paralysis I am constipated

and aroused I am hungry and frightened I am beginning to see
the aura of all existence hope turning green I want
to believe the promises are real perhaps
I should breathe now the bubble

has imploded my infection increases other dimensions
are beyond my reality the numbers on my plate taste
the same as poster paste the today in my mind
has no external expression I have

lost your name the kitten is dead commercials are remastered
with digital sound deep in my bowels tofu turns sour
there is an indefinite possibility
I might start to think.






Exhausted
By Phlip Arima

body lit red on bed

the fantastic convoluted complexity of
an empty singularity wire reinforcements
beneath cheap lace shapeless anxiety
dancing with eyes shut leather
laces running up waxed legs

the stale scent of desire trapped
in the sheets whispered words bouncing
back unheard a plant on the floor reaching for
the window a majority rule

without consideration for the individual
a dollar buys a pound for not more
than an hour a light grows dim a pen
runs dry a percentage is paid
for effective service

she is called incredible she is
promised a palace
she is left alone

without a hug one shadow turns to three
turns to infinity the mirror by the door
constantly distorts image does not
reflect the thought the sound

of groans echo back from other rooms
every act is a trial the victim
forever found guilty
somewhere

there is a memory that lifts and
liberates a child once laughed while
sitting on daddy's lap in a box near the bed
is an award for good spelling

at dawn there will be
a short reprieve.






Deep in the Night
By Phlip Arima

pre-dawn drizzle on a tattooed soul expectation amputated
from faith inside a skin less innocent than old
waiting for the angels to fall

from the sky rapture and thrust high-strung and hard little things
dying moaning in the crowd the heart seldom beats in
rhythm with wisdom dreams like serpents twist
with thought the nature of fire is to

always consume high-strung and hard
high-strung and hard inhale the fantastic cough and
choke teeth can be broken chewing on hope in spiritual chaos
angels die feel the storm slash through

the crowd know that the gut can seldom feel just just rapture
and thrust high-strung and hard inside a skin less innocent
than old the inarticulate caresses cerebral anxiety
listen to the voice of an

urban world lonely concrete artificial light hustle
of a squeegee against cold glass something
for throat something for vein
something for under

pulsating tongue expectation amputated from faith rapture
and thrust rapture and thrust ideals are anchors slow to
rust potential is myth future flux beat in rhythm
dawn burns the crowd.






Shift and Return
By Phlip Arima

if is the first word I learned to say
I read my horoscope everyday

this lottery ticket is going to win I can drink more
than I could at ten the walls are thick all mirrors lie I walk
like a robot I talk with machines all the virtues a few select vices
the floor is long the ceiling is wide under my hat is synthetic hair
mass advertising shapes my desire it looked good in the window
it's guaranteed tell me a story I'll hear what I want
each ache can be medicated

if funds are available I pick out the breasts
I'm going to get control-alt-delete I once saw a book
with pages and ink my watch has a dial for every time zone
this food was grown with twenty-two steroids these condoms taste
like passion fruit a game of bingo begins every hour I had ice cream
for breakfast cake for lunch nothing on the menu
looks right for dinner I am listening for

a sonic boom hit the return shift and repeat tell me a story
I'll pretend to listen the sign on the door says this way out drugs
are cheaper than buying new nerves I deposit my children in private
schools these twenty-dollar coins are made of aluminum it looked good
on the mannequin it's guaranteed I beat up a machine at queen
and bay the walls get thicker the floor gets shorter plastic
plants last longer than live ones I got my teeth

at a second-hand shop the delete key on the wall is smooth
and faded this lottery ticket is going to win the contacts I wear
make mirrors look better I picked out the penis I'm going to get exit
signs glow all through the feature today is the beginning of the end
of my life I saw a religion that just might work the forecast
for tomorrow has not been decided I have a condom
stuck in my throat everyone says

they like my hoarse voice smoking a cigarette
makes me a rebel ten fewer pounds I'll look intelligent
control-alt-delete my nerves are louder in lightless rooms I consider
a loft in an underground building all the virtues a few select vices
I sell my body for more than it's worth it looked good on the
computer it's guaranteed tell me a story I'll repeat it
better the walls get thicker the floor gets shorter

if is the first word I learned to say
I read my horoscope everyday

a low pressure front slowly moves through the region
get the eyes right see in fluorescent overwhelming
information I tint my lashes to match my nails
sexualize the moment to change
its value hit

the return shift and repeat wind rising stains
on my underwear I blindly scrub a thirty-second
spot swallow a list of affirmations all the virtues
a few select vices contaminated rain feared
and expected the delete key on the wall

is smooth and faded I paint my lips thick the sun
is turned off the screen refines apathetic disposition
electronic relaxation increases the tension a low
pressure front slowly moves through the
region stiletto heels dogmatically

march acid rain pits aluminum siding vinyl
foundation perfects my face the creatures
with property dig themselves in
all the virtues a few select
vices I lie in a puddle

denying the dark count the threads
in a designer suit sexualize the moment
if funds are available I use extra-strength
generic deodorant photocopy menus without
permission fact verification

is a futile task overwhelming information a professional
manicure would make me feel safe I knot my tie straight
rain to sleet a low pressure front slowly moves
through the region personal power
is a commodity

I cannot afford the study of ethics
is considered immoral the hungry forget it is crucial
to hunt I polish my teeth the walls get thicker the dark
gets denser a thin sheet of ice covers the puddle
I add more conditioner to my hair

if is the first word I learned to say
I read my horoscope everyday

each ache can be medicated to change
its value all the virtues a few select vices
the street is only a few steps away another
credit card should arrive

today hit the return shift and
repeat each and every one of us
is the enemy I saw my father watching
from the mirror tension describes

a complex pattern I feel the sickness
at the edge of each eye my watch says the door
will no longer open tell me a religion
I will believe

the parts I hear control-alt-delete I so
want to sleep this lottery ticket has already
lost overwhelming information the floor
is gone the puddle

is solid I download all the colourful
designe catalogues key on the
wall nerves as loud
as a sonic

boom.






Through Clouded Eyes
By Phlip Arima

blood on the floor does not surprise blood on the wall
does not frighten blood on the bed
is basically normal

a dog leaves its dirt on the moral
high ground crates of food fall with designer
bombs the name I was given is not one I use

a nerve is cut to interrupt blush a nerve is cut
to reorient shame a nerve is cut for fear
control cannot be maintained

rent paid with credit cosmetics
with cash a beauty queen smiles in a soiled
gown the dog returns to sniff its accomplishment

the same commercial in a variety of colours the same
commercial on every channel the same commercial
selling different products

a coke is swallowed every ten seconds high-paid diplomats
haggle over prisoners brothels employ
the uncrowned contestants.






Dionizing Thought
By Phlip Arima

teeth-ripped nipples corseted in leather steel beast throbbing
between my legs mercenary partner up and downloads wind sharp
cold engine heats bliss disintegration makes children scream a long
way from anywhere I want to be fine grains of sand cut
into my face the established look on with immoral
indifference subtle paranoia clutch and let
go limited throttle

control, rubber on road adrenaline licks from the edge
of a memory, muscles contract across stiffening joints monstrous
cherubs race toward me mimic the children with sardonic laughter
taunting cackle disdain sneer I quickly disappear into opaque
feedback an arid environment flirting with fire behind me
I sense a half finished burial the skin that I bite
smells

familiar intense anti-intimate gistless sex the choking sensation
just prior to crying starless sky as flat as the earth stock photos sell
lust from polychrome billboards tailpipes burn a searing white
in the distance I sense a psychotic break salt streaks back
from the corners of my eyes review mirrors begin to
crack feedback absorbs romantic desire hot
razors entice

every synapse wirelessly linked into the machine the memory races
around my conscience I pray for vindication instead of escape the
cherubs take on the guise of policemen body proud selfish
horrifically pierced abuse will inspire the children
to be violent fire starts to burn from a guilty
hand I look from the road to left
and right watch people
disappear

in infatuation see voracious creatures
violently surface push the revs into the red loosening bolts
near the ends of their threads wind sharp cold clutch and let go
foreplay flirtation deionizing thought I pass the displaced
hitchhiking on hope refuse the temptation to slow
the engine reduce my needs to binary
language vanilla comparison
of silicon

ideals control the machine through
nerve-shattered circuitry the children grow
cynical and drop into vanity chic punk feedback masochistic
anti-emotional routine sex the memory expands my
frontal lobe geriatrics look on with senile
acceptance I lie on the tank and twist
the throttle open my mouth to
challenge the cherubs
whisper the name

I want to forget precision
calculation of speed and matter sordid erotic
aspiration, screams that are never fully mourned barely
living scrub on both sides of the road wind sharp cold taillight
dark I imagine an audience rioting for justice listen
to the engine rise in pitch clutch and let go
orgasm post-play deionizing thought
the flesh that I chew
has a texture

I know
overdrive hypocrisy brutalized
trust fine grains of sand reduce visibility
insects die against my lamp I skid from the feedback
into reality speed wobble frame-shake fire
from the billboards the cherubs attack
with help from the children
the memory I swallow
will not be
digested.






Unsteady Barometric Pressure
By Phlip Arima

broken glass breath
sacred shine screeching jazz glistening sweat hot
with the sad-shake symphony which death to die today suffocation
in the silent scream an aneurysm on the rush liquid blind
and inhalant deaf rock-n-reggae-techno-roll tonguing blood
from frigid diamond fatal nuance a pirouette in fashion
flash all in white gone black city boxes towering steel
the fast high feel bliss piss and night sweats and
five hundred stations to choose from
which death to die today
catatonic helpless wish negotiating amphetamine memory
coming on like the slow song at the end of a high school
dance barometric pressure unsteady eternally searching
the popular shroud brain lame and sexually haunted
this is a religion that has no church this is
a service subject to taxation
this is a recording that will be repeated
until the power fails which death to die today
psycho-social orgiastic burn-out masochistic martyrdom
stitched in a pattern that has yet to be designed a talk with god
on a spook-tapped line randomly bookmarking every site on the web
another drink of throbless panic hot with the sad-shake symphony
bliss piss and night sweats and barbiturate dream kicking in
like pseudo punk at an angry demonstration clouds
of indecision barometric pressure
unsteady choose a new diet
a different cosmetic a colour that does not
reflect the light which death to die today accelerated decadence
decay coughed up through kill love dreams addicted to
the repulsively attractive hallucinogenic visions
of angels smearing distortion
across the horizon
like operatic euphoria
on a flood-lit stage embrace the manipulating
apparatus taste the corrosive kiss search for a partner
that hasn't a face age name date place
history is the score the music
follows.


a fantasy realized is a dead dream
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