Eyes mixed
LuLu LeSuere. Eyes mixed into a solution of staring at the floor. Being present in the present tense — while working, money equals heat, keep the water running —
But it was slippery. LuLu perceives her life as a pail with a hole in it. Drip drip. Through to scale the wrist to a nail… Up on the cross between today and tomorrow, mockery at the absurdity of her heart, defames the sky.
A tosser for a tail a fail a wail, the nail…
A temptation to do battle with it, raising time to a circling taunting infinity, where buys time, visits the sublime, flashes cross paths - beacons flame and canoodle.
Like an equation without length —
Moments of sublime attenuation where proclaims a miracle of freedom and a release from death.
LuLu is resolved not to think about love, hate, death, god as a cod sod or bod, no.
Fire in the mire. Hell lights up the sky with its subversions, more beautiful than reality’s curses.
How she thought about it sometimes as a deafening gleam of violence being whorled into her thirst, as both transformational love, and a benighted curse.
And how hard it was to separate lust from beauty, or for that matter, get her jobber to stay anywhere.
Reactionaries in the fur below always running off, running off into the impossible, into being impossible. Where everything LuLu couldnt do — she had to do. Over and over, floats try tremors cry and fly to meet up with the curiously cursed. Skidding to a burst.