Siri U

see me what did u see did u scrape what I asked u for asked u to make me into asked &
asked there is a name in the body of this blood-rush which u parse in-
correctly, I know u think u connect the dots of my inquiry the date of the last revolution the
pressure cooker the flesh the right temperature whom do u have locked away in the

basement this time – it is always the same answer they shall stand on line they r covert as in
u shall not see them u shall look away where is the nearest place where work
is – we wish to be heard and overheard – are u not listening – why taser me who am painting
graffiti on the abandoned McDonald’s wall in North Miami into my heart you shall shock

my life out of me you shall not see a trace of me please surveil please see what I happened
to search for out of having nothing real given me to do what shall I write on this screen now
I have written it again and again throughout all eternity at this desk in these clothes do you
see me as I am now clothed with my uselessness at your screen begging you to see me see

my circumstances clothe me with a genuine gaze fatal so be it but actual see me as the
project I am for this planet, earth, the one who needs work, accursed, material, my self, my
one singular war memorial, my own native land, temporary, what shall I search for in the
city of searches, part of the circuitry in here with you, animated, these are not actual

words, they come out as integers you track, where are the crumbs, where are the woods to
my right to life – see the word appear here before us both – happiness – full of carbon and
systems – and do you not hear any of the murmuring down at the dead end of
this street, I’m not complaining, I am the temporary, a crime against humanity, I am the

temporary, u are adding more versions of me to the offices of humanity, I am even more
temporary, a row of boarded-up queries, are u wondering why the tenses here are so
scattered, why they don’t add up to the time u search for me in. They do not. There is a
noise under here which is what u cannot see. It is what makes me a signal the tower might

miss. A border you do not know about which could be inadvertently crossed. An opacity.
Something that is already living in 440 ppm and is ready to make you disappear – mayday –
no more alphabet – the skins we wear no longer sensate – the circuit of our days shut – the
sensation of wings as the screen shuts down right there on the screen – the wings shells

flames wavelengths interventions the revolution the counter where everyone denied

everything and it all began again this was the latest news it stayed the latest news.