Peptides get confused; the decay of the stomach rises in belches and just plain gas. It mingles with the breath, informing it of 'the problem'; a dialogue procuring a strong smell, a dying smell.
And meanwhile? The ingestion of yet-another artificially sweetened coke, takes place. Corrosion of the villi is imminent. Celiacs is glimpsed through the cracks of my deteriorating gut. And i will persist to harm my self... even with a pathetic hypochondriacal prophecy.

///A search is underway.

How stupid to think we'd found.

Time moves in fast circles, repeating itself, repeating itself, repeating itself.

i deigned to think of an answer, and come up with a
shiner of a lie,
locked between teeth and thick as leather and with the
same taste.
Nostalgic cramp to think it could all just be a
bodily
experience.
(y e a h f u c k i n g r i g h t)
skin it feels so old after a week: mine.
And in a mentalistic void that is a self-fulfilling prophecy,
you coughed up my blood and became my illness,
a cynical fart clouding the air and
this,
is it;

How stupid to think we'd found,

HOW STUpid TO THINK we'd found.
///

Or else

It seems you found me
In such an unexpected place,
In the corner of the draw.
Or the backing of a phonecall, its
Spinal cord ripped out, so that
From it
I could make sense
Of an intention
~ Clear and pure as sound ~
Whence from your croaky urgent voice you
Called me,
Called to me,
And in it there was a rose of truth:
'I'll see you tomorrow,
OK?'
Tapering
At the end
To a faint and gentle question.
(Beseechment.)

And if it wasn't for my own
Hard knuckles of consent,
I swear the flow of
Truth, would
Pass by undetected.
As though eyes had
Clammed shut and
Failed to heed the sign
That is and was the
Fatal omen:
S e v e n E l e v e n.

I've been seeing and in my fate
Recording this,
From clocks and other things
Since I hung by
Tips of fingers
Onto superstition.
Purposes mean more than
Blood and thoughts alone, and
Concrete surrounds to a
Vital core, is
Jackhammered, into
A fallen pile.
And from this
Deconstructive rubble,
Rises,
Phoenix-like,
Proud of plumage,
A
Rose.
On it is a
Simple thorn, a
Simple thorn of truth:
Cut this path I lose another.