The cigarette sits on the desk before me --> Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

The cigarette sits on the desk before me Webster's defines "Public Speech" as:
It's like sleeping in water breathing in water it's like, beads of sweat popping inside your clothes in little wet flowers, little wet mouths. The cigarette sits on the desk before me. How long have I inhabited this divine confusion, where you define finitude as somewhat slanted and enchanted? Five common PHP design patterns, she says, but while she sleeps this sleek sincere elation. I haven't been outside in days. It's a bit like holding your breath until your blood cries out from the dust, froid, froid, froid! You've seen that movie, haven't you? In your sleep your hair dances within the currents. I crush my breath out on it as it waves by, and I think about the many ways we have to represent water, how hard it is for 3-D Computer Graphics to represent these in-betweens of states of mater, liquid and haze, smoke and ocean, fire, fire, fire.
I think too of the gradations. There is only the Literal, my dear, and these shades are just other states we know exist, but rarely touch. Why do we limit what we know to these abrupt endings?




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