Drink it all in. Let the blood darken
your face. You are breathing
language substrate. You are walking through
so many parts per million of undiscovered expression,
a hemisphere of unvoiced sound.
The smallest unit of meaning is a germ
and germs lurk everywhere,
ink spit and typeface in mirrors.
They always did. They always will
tempt you to assign value.
When you do, you inhale invisible language dust,
delusion molecules, fantasy atoms, fact iotas
and inflate yourself with them,
build dreams, hang hope off them,
act on them
and then you fall.
There’s frenetic mutation
and any number of misunderstandings
but if you’ve tried to make sense before,
you may have some immunity
or an addiction, incipient or chronic?
There is peril in pulped data,
bits and bytes,
the d.n.a. of sentences:
adenine, the letters, guanine,
cytosine, syllables, thymine,
pulverised alphabet, spores of flower verb,
proglottids of emotional worm,
‘a’s and ‘z’s, silent and transparent as air in air,
illness heralds, single cellular life.
A body clearing its throat of irritant,
life sentences pour from the mouth.
Fine numerals, hair breadths, fractional tolerances
in creation soup, gamete ideas meeting,
generating plagues and paradise,
bugs, bug fixes, zygotes, cons and lies,
health bestowing stories, awesome description,
vaccines and poisons, inoculation and possession,
abrasive punctuation, transmogrifying radiations of fear and hate,
the syntax of oppression, granular imperatives
all swirling inaudible, intangible in the bubble
that surrounds you, caught in the filters
for understanding, clogging their mesh,
short circuiting nerves.
The thread leading back through the maze
into tree clean air, is fraying, is spat on and rotting,
is being chewed by sentiment, untied by pride
and going up in smoke.
The signs billow, flutter and flow like substitute oxygen.
You need to absorb some and live for a while in delusion,
drink embarrassment and boost your signifying anti-bodies,
take the rumours and the paranoias like strychnine tonic,
the fantasies as sugar, the lies as creative,
the fear as a warning, the half truth as a half truth.
You are breathing language substrate.
You are walking through an atmosphere drenched
in undiscovered expression,
a hemisphere of the unsaid becoming extinct.
ZQ 170317 (UD June 2022 – was Drink The Embarrassment)