Piece

     ,Well, what is it?'

     ,I don't feel satisfied with the trees here. There really isn't any need to be in between these bodies. Their eyes are uncomfortable pillows and I'd quite like to sleep in the street.'

     ,Speak up. Out with it.'

     ,I rather like these spaces though. I push my finger into them and fill them, inflate them. I move into these spaces in between things and in things and it changes them. Nothing really is against me then; nothing is without me when I fill their spaces.'

     ,If you're not going to say anything, then why are you here?'

     ,I'd really like to be my own father. I've tried to revolve myself through death and birth by myself in my own blood, but I'm not really sure how that's going.'

     ,Look, you're really starting to piss me off. If you're going to simply sit there silently, then fuck off.'

     ,I don't believe in freedom and so I don't value it. I find it unfortunate that Americans prize it more than almost anything. They see the alternative as a Nazi regime or men from the Middle East stoning a woman in the street for being raped, but that's a false dichotomy. What people want isn't freedom. It's security and truth that they want, safety in in being and existing as what they are, what they could potentially be. Well, there are things I'm against people being, like being intolerant of people I find to be innocent. I also don't want people believing that they're free, that freedom is something we have, because it harvests a people without position, though they believe that they have position. They simply become infinitely manipulable.'

     ,If you don't say something or leave, you'll regret it.'

     ,I wish I could believe in God sometimes.'

     ,Fine. Choose to be silent and motionless.'

     And he struck him. He grabbed a limb from off the shelf and with both arms he slammed it into the side of his face. He was lying against the ground in a fit of apprehension, in ecstasy and fear, and all was boundless, limitless. There were no walls, simply terror and resolve. These two filled the room like lovers. And he beat him. And the firecracker popped. And the child giggled.

     The water rushed over the stone. It was lodged into a crack between things, but the water didn't mind so much. And the rock didn't mind very much either, as it was prone to indifference. What did happen though, each time water passed across the rock, which was continuous, each time accumulating into a desert, long and indifferent, was a production of friction, long and indifferent. And it went like that for quite some time.

     And he became a radiator. When he spoke, it didn't feel warm, but it reminded people that they were. And you would think that the man was still striking him with the limb, but the blows rattling him were in fact happening deep underground. And you couldn't see the eyes peering out, but you felt the discomfort all the same. And all around them, people didn't touch one another. They in fact denied the inclination three times each at least, and then kept going until it dissolved completely and evenly. And they all lay on the ground in fits of apprehension, without ecstasy or fear, and all was bound. And the water rushed over them, accumulating into a desert, long and indifferent, for quite some time.

     Stretching out a hand in a fashion that never goes out of style. From time immemorial, did you know that you should be thankful? He reaches out from behind bulletproof glass near a dumpster. Put yourself in this box, didn't you know that you should be thankful? And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     They're in their boxes looking far away. Still, don't get too close; they are on display. We have your childhood, hold still. Stay. For quite some time, we'll let you be kept here and afterward you can remember where we let you look far away. Right here; but don't get too close. Do not touch. We'll keep you here safely on display. You can have images to remind you where you lay. And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     I can measure my life in coffee spoons. Zero is immense. A diamond is forever. Accept loss forever. Hold it there, that spot in your metaphysic. Remain nowhere. Let the friction shape you, lodged between things, for quite some time. And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     Let yourself feel it momentarily, as the image burns by. It felt warm, but not because of what it said. You had to keep warm, regardless of what it said. And everything remained still, for a very long time. And he beat him. And he didn't touch him.

     And there was cheap gold imitation framing every view. Wind blew through the trees in the backgrounds and it was crisp, but each view was framed in cheap, faux-Victorian, golden-delicious, flaking imitation. And it tasted like dust. And he remained. And he didn't touch him.

     Every space was filled, except for the lines. The lines were white on a white wall. Everything that filled all else was accumulated, like a desert, for the lines, so that there were lines, so that there could be lines. Each time a water passed over, a moment accumulated on this wall, accumulated for the sake of white lines on white walls. And he remained. And he didn't touch him.

     And she was ornate and still. All that was built around her was designed to move without moving. And there were colors and designs and textures and messages, but what they said only reminded you that you should be warm. And you couldn't see the eyes peering out, but you felt the discomfort all the same. And he tasted dust. And nobody touched.