sad music-making

[score] - for five performers
to eight or ten and do it then, and
once I do I hope we'll scream inside our heads
wait, so I think. the pitch is different
difficult to maintain the voice-contact
all the eyes saw all the sounds. Now
the smoke wave good
the sigh that extends itself and
sick people make the best
but that would make it
whispers into the meaning of spirit

and I will count
seventeen years ago,
teach to kill if call a name
imagine a world where
I tried to invent a language
each new vowel was matched
I can't take my eyes
I thought about a vegetable voice
sick, the books burn good smoke,
best, the wine gods smirk, the bad earth
here, the organs of speaking see
close your eyes, control

if whistle kyr if breathe
to it. I to see to it, with everyone.
the colours demand less colour.
not by sounds or numbers, but by each of the
if sing the neurons in your brain if
the verse rhyme more
I can take my eyes out of you,
nine first trees the world had to offer
if sandstorms gather after dusk
if learn to write if
health possible, make the eyes shine

which we imagine spoken by the dead.
a pyramid of music.
if count if try to bite
I shan't give it to them. You shall
the music we hear in our dreams and can't reproduce once we wake
and dust will swing past overdrives
rot, the sick people good, the good people
This is it, now
but soon I crushed my numbing
your breath.

the breath of life if live the music in your throat
divination, the skies shine more wavelengths
used to stand now accepts
out of you I mean I can
I would need to listen to the dying
the place where my eyeballs
just as my name was coughed
audibly. wouldn't you say?
of the first laughter. You see,
out of my father's phlegm
prophets mumble in their sleep


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