Lumbered the galactic fucks
into silk. One time shaped
like brain, another like a method
in an abyss. Details don’t convert one.
And why everything at once.
I’m coming, honey, I’m coming dressed.
You’re evident, it’s evident who needs to get fucked over.
To drowse a breakdown in the Devil’s dialect.
Under the feathers, with a trophy, towards a purebred existence.
Or, in the event of character, with remote controls in mouths.
Knots of rickety interest,
just a bottoms up away from barbarism.
A stinger moults off hunger
like a body poisoned by a mechanism,
clutching its tummy.
Plunging for you, the third time like an ally’s shoulder.
It’s different
if we kneel as pagans.
With strength in multiple joints
we leave a milky trail like hooligans.
You’re spying on me again,
I can hear you knocking on the landing.
Will you go further,
you fervent membrane?
Frothy in the access to opportunity.
To shackle zest into the eyeball
when the posterior calms down,
just so.
A constant hacking through.
You are a line that killed the cuttlefish
under a drip of ink,
under electric sand thrown onto a roof.
It was a miracle through a spear in the navel
that we caught the shark,
with pearls remaining on our sexes
and reflecting on the real.
Soon turned towards shadows of our deeps.
Translation: Jernej Županič