*(spoilers)*

“Sometimes I get lonely
sleeping with you,” she said.
“Just great,” I said, “Just great.”
I was already lost.
She was the kind of girl
that would sleep with anyone,
I was mediocre,
but okay about it.
It was improbable
that such a person as
myself could be living,
that such a relation
as ours could last for long.

Another girl, with an
auricular something,
“You know nothing,” she said,
“For sure,” I said, “For sure.”
On a wild sheep chase,
ovine totemism,
a vital dynamo,
a fixed point in time-space.
points have no names, nor selves,
sheep have both,
a Will, a whip, a host,
scourging blood for weakness.
“People are weak” I said.
“You don’t know this thing,” he said,
gangrene rot worsening,
“That exists in the world.”

“Where’s the time go?” she asked,
we were close then, closer
than ever, before the end.
“Time adds up for us,” I said,
“But it does not expand.”
No, time does not expand.
time trails off into death,
darkness alone shifting,
like mercury motion,
voiceless snow falling soft,.
Getting back, to normal,
on a cold, concrete sea,
all alone with the dead,
and ears to hear the waves.

This is from the text, more a tessellation of quotes than novel effort.