III. adjacent muttering:
latent limp love stale pale passed love sizzling silent love
tires tire ghouls
no sweet songs of girlish fantasies: me, i could never do that, related to my upbringing –
but sing of retards and broken dreams and falseness – and the inner perspective of survival,
the grand role, the master game – and the salt o’the earth, let them be bilge and tank cleaners, of the silent suffering and yearning, and sex by the function, derivatives of emotions, the trials by heart, its authentic signals, as by now the refinery lights aren’t that romantic a challenge anymore, or night-shift’s strange sound and smell, echoing noises, and those long night stories about the Panama Canal decades ago, blonde hair in a shark’s stomach. later the cancerous attacks that ate away half of their faces, jaw bones, end of imagination….