Ish Klein Overview

Act I: Against Death

Act I: Against Death Since we are ghosts, since we are barely here but for pain and song and sad lights from our memories making it out, since we are brightest before death- Wait ghost! Wait friendly ghost! I’m running after which means I thought of running: I watched myself do it I had regret I put it all on you. You- the mobile ghost You- the better ghost You with your magic and who am I? I am an angry friendly ghost. A ghost who wants to lose weight, one who picks at skin and pulls out hair. One who doesn’t haunt others but who haunts herself. Ghost among ghosts! You who are a weary ghost- who is hung over and scribbling out the fear- The old buildings that we move through as we dodge machines. Come here and be faithful to blood to the fact that it pours constantly- The collective blood that pays our way and says almost nothing. I am haunting these people. I think they are my friends. Not well am I doing this. I am going to be forgotten. I do hope that happens. Maybe then I can change maybe I can say, You go here, do this do that: first A, then B, then C and I will be reliable as for endeavor. But always it is: C! B? fuck you A. I never needed A. A is destroying my mind- A is the devil and the devil wants to fuck and crawl out of me again; to make me responsible for the end of it all. A- the thing to do- Avoid the devil do the laundry. Avoid the devil’s cameras. Hi! I say. I smile. behind the loudness, my evasion, the hangover, I am planning, planning to get better. I am figuring somewhere else. I have been working on it. I’ve been imagining the woods- not the city. The woods and within the clearing two castles. They will dig me out from a whole. I was sleeping inside a tree. You see I killed myself before for love. I could not be found. Others needed me and I did not care. I needed me but I did not know it as I was essentially leaking everything and the love and the pain it mixed sand to glass inside- it broke and my glass with wine broken- this is how I drank it. This is what shocked my voice this is the further tear along the front. The front filling up with blood- ballooning with it. It fears the air a bit. It needs to keep moving. Wary blood, how can I blame you. I am dead. I did kill myself. I must forgive everyone in pain. I must give them everything to correct my mistake. It isn’t easy . Sorry. Well, the furies You know- the furies who can cure them.? They have many arms all weaponed, all holding edges and points to tear. You can’t hug them from behind. They roll with spikes out. Who’s in there? What blood is in there? How can it be freed? I am part of you furies. I am a radiant of you too. Let me take you in and care, let me sit you by my fire. My sister in her car. We will die now, I thought. We’re together- it fits I guess I’m ready If this is love it isn’t trusting. Love you are allowed to be you. You with frightened blood and plagued by cameras from beyond and dancing sort of. You with no magic that has become a new magic of ticks and clicks. Hit it with a stick Metal, it is now, a moment! I have stopped aware of my complete apparent lack of comfort. Numbers. Points in the dark. Heaven. Old time. Shame. Shame the stupid soiled person, the actor. You out there, there is a way. A way to break out! You mate with flames You forgot- you forget You must have been You must be: A. Devil B. Angel C. Motion D. Dog E. Electric F. Made by Men C. Computer, broken circuits cutting other circuits inside and around outside holding you in. Inside screaming Your friends are keeping you here They need someone too, Love. LOVE TERRIBLE LOVE LOVE TERRIBLE LOVE STAY WITH ME

The Will

The Will Today I realized that I have been smiting people. At them I have been throwing small things that I wish were bigger but I am afraid of getting sued. I would also probably smite an animal if it acted like a person who I would want to smite. It's because I'm sick of being shunned. In sober moments I realize that smiting near-perfect strangers is no way to avoid a shunning. It's the heart: hard and tight. Closed. Sometimes I find my closed heart so closed that I'm shocked. Shocked and shunned. To be apparently honest it should be said that the heart may not be totally closed: it seems to whistle for pizza (whistles have holes!)also it goes for impassioned rages. "Holy hell" they say. I scream at the friend who "didn't do anything". For this to be a technical rage, the friend must be scared or cry. If I apologize the heart is not closed? Right? Unless I am political. A political confessor/prestriker-type? Whatever. Who do I know anymore well? Probably nobody. But two hung on. In my will, my wealth favors the one on the left because he has less my sentimental material should go to the guy on the right because he's that way. And my children who are puppets should burn with me.