there was a final reality and it was good and she clung to him.

- She clung to him, she clung to him, she clung to him, she clung to him, she clung to him, bombarded in that rhythm - with, he was, on, beside, under, he couldn't understand, impossible to, interpret the directions, except that bombardment of evil, pulsing, inundation and want desire directed rhythm - demon-pulse-hate -

was their world;

the onslaught beneath which every conscious moment.

If consciousness existed still, was inundated, breached, the shit bucket in which they made him sleep, outside, over beneath, the rhythm hate wall of organ desire and consciousness destruction that was the world in which – directionless, uncomprehending, not even seeing her, not knowing where, he knew only that she clung to him/clung to him and where; their senses entangled: their bodies, intermingled, their minds, pushed flat along and joining upon the same surface, her eyes, through the organ walls that bombarded him, her hair, tossed and falling upon him in the winds of unchallenged rhythms, her cheeks flush in the directionless passage of slides, forms, angles, interpretations flat, and three dimensional; exchanging rhythms of the final reduced want desire entity - for it was an entity pushed onto him.

He exchanged his mind with its, in obsession rhythm dance pulse demon hate filled organs, one grafted upon the next, where was she – in him – where she was – through him, where she was – next, inside beside, the same thing, her eyes flashing recognition and the need, the same

they were the same, she understood; she saw him through the onslaught, through the forms that made you mad, through the shapes that induced in you rhythms; through the terrible hormonal heated pulsing induced in their very biologies, inculcated, pathologized repeated actions. He was forced to see her identityless, he was forced to see her not there:

she was the bucket cunt, she was the empty sack, she was the zone into which you poured momentarily, quick as possible, nothing exchanged but fluids, no ideas, no love mind interaction across a surface of meaning, they didn't - they didn't - his training, his self, his repetitions, internal and worked into the structure of his body forced him through those insane passageways of organ parts not to see, her, her, not to see her, her, eyes exchanged and what they sought to communicate, not to see – organ boy, organ boy, organ boy, organ boy, organ boy, organ boy –

anything love a banquet of nothing, mere shape patterns and then reduced into angles, colours, flat surface angry mind interactions, verbal reality decreased into nothing, nothing land, they existed in, the whole place, his life, the zone in which he operated, nothing land, he was with her, there, he saw a flash of – he felt her beneath everything, pushing out toward him, her eyes, their bodies entangled in a rhythm separated from any of it, that was entirely, this was not – not the empty bucket between the retreating planes of new reality

into which he was plunged repetitively, interminably, his real life, his fake life, his real life, fake - not that zone of absorbed abstraction: it wasn't the flat angled planes of the zone that sucked him in, not the dungeon land and the meaning he sought to pull out of it by being, by being, being uninterruptedly who he really was/but wasn't, he was there, he saw her, beneath those hateful layers that even now, especially now, sought to eradicate him.

He saw her eyes,

a flash between them of -

something real exchanged he'd never seen before.

He had the thing to return her, that had rendered him alive, and revealed all this to be -

nothing

this was the nothing land,

the other place-

the nothing land-

it was all the nothing land her glance revealed; that it contained beauty, that thing, that thing that existed, that final reality that was there, that he was toward, he existed towards this final scope, and it was real and it was beautiful, and it was good, and her glance, what she poured back into and the thing he gave her back in return, showed him this: their bodies were the same and equal upon something untethered, something floating completely apart from the hateful organ layers passaged through them in induced rhythms, something completely – something complete -

Her eyes said it too,

that she understood him

Trailing in her glance, he saw her. The rhythms ceased beneath it. The forms, the madness, the layered throbbing reduced/induced insanity, poured into him and rendered biologically impossible to resist - this entirely departed in her eyes.

Balanced upon that gaze and what it exchanged.

He saw only her now.

That idea. That idea. He had to -

But she already knew. She took the thing he returned and gave it back to him too.

He had never communicated. He had never been seen. He had never been. He had never been. He had never ever been. - Her seeing him made him, he saw. Seen in that gaze that rendered the fact of his existence inarguable, of his identity, of who he actually in final reality was.

It was all there, in her glance, because, through the love exchanged between him, it was – and he told her this, but she already knew – it was already there.

She saw him into existence. Purposefully seeing him there. He understood that. He was real. He finally existed. Him. Him. Him. And he knew his name, he didn't know where, but it came from someplace, and he knew that too. It was Massimo. Because he was -

He existed in that glance, him. Finally, this place – he understood it; he understood that something beautiful, existed, something towards which - something he could live for. Something that mattered; someone – because she saw him, she saw, he was real, he existed - he could understand that he had a person, was a person, had identity, that he existed.

He was real.

He wasn't merely the bag-sack, the organ boy; an accumulation of fluids that necessarily had to be emptied, in the same fashion, daily, in various buckets, women, holes in the wall, women, or women. He understood several other things – he understood, because – her eyes saw him, clearly saw exactly and in what terms exactly, and all the ways in which he was, nothing hidden, merely understanding and with it the corresponding it

poured out of him and enveloped him, so that - all he sought to return was multiplied -

- because she saw him, she - she really finally and uninterruptedly saw him,

who he actually – was/loved him anyway/she saw -

him -

And then she stopped seeing him.

Or giving a fuck that he even existed.