the camera speaks because that is what it is designed to do/ digging down past the edges deep/ turf or the boundary lines kinda fade away/ they are almost scared/ the disingenuous would call it new horizons/ actually, what straight males fear the most is shit/ the land of the dead is the silent room together/ the taste of his tongue in your mouth is going to haunt you for as long as you live/ the betrayal of the self is not a concept you intellectualized, the two of you are here because you cannot feed yourselves/ both of you will stretch and fold as if you were near the western font right behind the tanks, and marching toward your doom/ penetrated and utterly empty and in the wreckage of it all, beyond a silence that is listened for in the black rivers where you weep/ hunger is a promise, your new cruising altitude, close your eyes and pretend the sound barrier is what other people hear/

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