I refuse certain truths not that I lie, I keep some words even from myself so I can go on
In a surge I thought I witnessed you come bubbling up again to the cooling surface
but it was only the hydrogenated oils that solidify and turn their hopes of peptides into cooked up beings
helplessly you flee from me to the streets, to the sewer grates spreading your arms pretending they can be wings
There are some nights carefree revelry turns into a sickening carelessness
Could I get so bored I cared again.
slipping upward to the verge of a crimson-toned gash: a mouth open, willing, with hygienic breath, it is important to conserve a few pieces and parts, mostly the teeth
free again in innocence spreading and spreading and nothing now without me
the hurt that is no where in particular
If you never speak to me again I will never speak again
Representational versus abstract is an outmoded dichotomy, says the truant, the hobo, the dystropic alien miming a ludic display. Abstraction is the domain of elites? Yes, but there is nothing left to see, so they were right. Representation is of the masses, their vehicle in popular culture where movies and comics obtain relevance above modernist achievement? Yes, but pleasure circulates as a ritual of consumption, a ritual where we feeeeeeel feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel the sick need, and feel for the sick need, feeling around to get it again, the sick lack, the yearning for unoccupied womb to chew thru and go out the other side. The other side, a discolored thing begging ‘JUST FUCKING LET ME BE.’ What’s that? Representational conceptualization underlies the invisible herding? There is a push, THE push towards a shared, common, and holistic hermeneutic, and with it, a common apprehension? WELL FUCK ME. I DON’T WANT TO SEEM HAUGHTY OR CRASS.
rupturing representation
is
clearly a
revolution
in madness no one could want to win nor should
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I cognize neutered representations solely as a mental copy copy copy otherwise I’m as blind as an illiterate but worse b/c the black art oing sphere is a represenal ttation reand w/0 a represerpent ion a repuin inurport a tation a repir is pation a up erp Arp per tstuaerasion a ano rt a perpurplesation with a pe e pe ep a rep a repenaperpertra peripetia perperetrata a concuratta a
tverizonal subterilizationiothe There is a false 'otherness' which is utopian. Only a complete half-cooked destruction of society would lay the groundwork for a better alternative. The complete destruction of representation is tragedy and harmonized cunnilingual signifiers going tip to tip mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 268435456 0 0 -2147483648 0;} @font-face {font-family:"OCR-A II"; panose-1:2 15 6 9 0 1 4 6 3 7; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:modern; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Bernard MT Condensed"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Bodoni MT Poster Compressed"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 17 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
the erotic is fatty tissues
And it is studious and an animal carcass is me learning to die most efficiently and herein is the reward
the persuasional is reading between the lines in morgue reports is the purpose of warring cognitions parachuting into the jungle of innate registrars and I don’t want to participate in the critique any more! r afrtThat’s my own sublation talking in the recipe the old flavor ossifying a trope to proudly wave around like a bone like a diz/2pwod IT'S THE FUTILITY WHEREIN WE WIN
undercut powers oelif the concurrent patterns in elshold true vimte of an imposture so great we’re all at risk Affirmation of the status quo is a negation of the alternative, but is a positive reinforcement of the status quo. Negation of the status quo is an illusion, since the negation takes part in and is voiced from within the status quo.*/ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0;cosmic mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536869121 1107305727 33554432 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-469750017 -1073732485 9 0 511 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Arial Black"; panose-1:2 11 10 4 2 1 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610612049 1073772795 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:Bahnschrift; panose-1:2 11 5 2 4 2 4 2 2 3;Ok, get lost!
THE REAL WAR AGAINST REPRESENTATION IS NOT FOR ABSTRACTION. THE REAL WAR AGAINST ELITES IS NOT FOR POPULARITY, POPULAR CULTURE, POPULAR OPINION, POPULAR DISTRUST, POPULAR REVOLT, OR ANY FORCIBLY SHARED EXPERIENCE OR APPREHENSION. REIFICATION SUCKS
you may need to die to get there.or suffer a head injury.an alternate reality is not better. isolation. far more alone in the default, assigned version.It’s not escapism or idealism. it’s codified. watch.
neoclassical colonnades
setting foot on
Dodge Saturn tire tracks swept aside
by Strauss snorting Dylithium crystals
in the search for spock
or the voyage home
to see Cesare Borgia setting the phasers to stun--
---IS
THat really Pavarotti's hand
in Dolly Parton's blouse---
the winds of change---
blowing---
castrati Uranus hands the reins over to Cronos
with steady scissors-
HOLD STILL
A gargantuan MRS. pac man
Knowing why the caged bird sings
but not the blues
Robert Johnson swishes Hydrogen Peroxide
to assuage Maya Angelou
crouches hesitantly
with denture fixative on his knees
Kissing the ground
she walks on and on
shaking hips like a belly dancer the
pope grovels
before skimming
the yellow pages to hire out catered
ambrosia for hedonistic benedictions
the abbey of thelema
smelling like teen spirit
deodorized decay
loves the scourge of flies that
fuse themselves to the shotgun-pelleted wall
wondering
who will come next
Salome
Jackie O
narcissistic Donatello's David's
androgynous mouth-fucked finality
though
Caravaggio isn't Goliath
but nonetheless
I'm missing his head
his marbles his pager#
his bowler hatted appraisals of
premodernist authenticity
his blue light special price tags of parataxis
his decals of bumpersticker tribulation
take up the old rugged cross
and cut Gorbechev off in
rush hours of Ecclesiastical traffic
hurrying desperately to recover the relationship
and cancel the checks and love notes
scribbled impetuously at the height of the Iran contra affair
I LOVE YOU FIDEL CASTRO
I love wading through
the flora and fauna with you
fumbling with the keys to the Paracelsus flophouse
fawning over Mussorgsky's tumbling Night down
the Hairpiece of Bald Mountain
with rye ergot and Dick Cheney
growing out of our soiled buried bodies
reaping the harvest of Eleusinian mysteries and
going backward
knowing full well what we'll
do when we get there
doing what thou wilt with the lush overgrowth
pruning the luscious deadness of passionate put-ons
pretending to not see spiritless
matter bouncing along the tarmac
at two hundred miles per hour
NOOOOOO ! ! !!! !!!!!!!!! !!!
not Buddy Holly
Richie Valens
the Big Bopper
and two thousand hits of Ecstasy
Stretching the sinews of truth
of steroid wrestling superstar
Presidential hopefulness fizzling
in calorie-counted polls
calculating the popularity of a one-time try-it-out
once-in-a-lifetime
BE=bopped biological disaster
REsurrection after resurrection
of Marilyn Monroe
promised but never received
foaming out of the corner of RFK's mouth
reputations saved and clipped and glued
selectively
THAT'S NOT THE SAME LASSIE
and you can't
tell me otherwise
and that's DICk VAN DYKE and not
CHarlie cHaplin or
Robert Downey Jr being pulled
from the pitfalls and pratfalls
of vulgar Aristophanes
ED WOOD
and John Waters
and just where the fuck do you think you are
in General Hospital requesting
a X-ray chest examination
of Sigourney Weaver
the thing that lives in her
carbon dated
a flower
the goddamned Rosicrucians again
Arriving at the scene
just in time to overdose
WRONG WAY to the
WRONG ERA
the meter's still running
wait here
Burroughs is busy shooting up in the bathroom…
Bilious George, the cantankerous little outline man, has a great idea. Put up some more junk, an immovable feast for the flies. Excess content. Filler. Leftovers. Consumed and then it comes back up. It’s filler but it’s made to be consumed anyway. Soy, carrageenan, cellulose. Largely indigestible. Saying it’s fake trivializes the extent that progress is dependent on cheaper replacements. Cheapening is an alterative to higher pay. Inflation paranoia has infiltrated all politics, left and right.I suffer from terrible reflux. Like Ezra Pound’s Cantos, time is scrambled up and regurgitated. A cheap replacement for now, where now could be a revolutionary moment in history, a time to make history as a deliberate act, not an old thing hanging around in crusty documents, shopworn mythos gobbling up a plate of tradition. Leftovers are a suspicious symbol bearing the weight of overabundance but it is mostly among the middle and adjacent classes that leftovers are a sign of accumulation, a kitchen ripe for the conditions of overproduced potatoes and green beans so the entire family can bear witness to the fruits of wage labor. Worked so hard so we can each have a pie! The rich, on the other hand, not only throw out food on purpose, as an excess that is not to be reserved itself as a symbol, but as symbolic excess, the overabundance as a matter of disposal, a choice, an invisible remonstration as inarticulate as it is ignored. I’m going to be sending you an email on the matter soon. Email is a kind of disposal. Gather up reactions, corrupted thoughts on the thing at hand, choose a chute, and send it off. Good. I’ve less to think about. Scroll past it. TL; DR. Good. It was in a foreign language, an object sullied and discolored on the oversaturated screen: poetry, a means for nonsense to pretend it can overcome the obvious, the dead ideas reproducing themselves as the basis of reality, a reality only those in pathological denial would say, ‘I’ve lost interest.’ Canned in guts, 100% preservation, kept isolated, a large dose, con carne, so juicy, the taste is locked in, tanker trucks pumping maximum sodium intake, forming a pillar in the gut, don’t look into the gut of the can, which I can be. As a matter of disposal. Leftovers are saved. Saved in the belief that they have a future. A future at the table one or two days later. Or the rest will be scooped out into the garbage bin.
look at those feetfeetfeet. his pheromones are musty and taste like yeast, but tonguing the superstructure as it enables or supports capitalism is heroic. is a man always a crime. yes it’s a crime. i grew into an advert. an adverb. an additive in an additive. but if garbage aesthetics is relevant it is in the atmospheric everyday norms, habits, beliefs and it contributes to a tornado haze as heavier emissions than the grey plumes cumming out of smokestacks, so we can dance in the piss rain, enjoying our mental fog unable to produce art let alone product let alone masses for art for products for masses, old music that’s in tune by way of talent, shitclouds growing on the horizon and i honk my horn get the fuck of the way, i make underwear pollutants, i inhale the smoke b/c the oxygen has treasonous aims. carbon is organic so what’s all the fuss about, we’re going to die in the garbage fucking and flailing so happy finally suffocated by the bags and bags and bags and bags someone’s cackling as the burial proceeds a sanctimonious cackle the cackle of art itself the garbage aesthetics that crushes us all down to particulate, says Actions: go. make more ugly shit. it’s unreasonable. Actions: go. make more ugly shit. it’s unreasonable.Actions: go. make more ugly shit. it’s unreasonable.Actions: go. make more ugly shit. it’s unreasonable. Actions: go. make more ugly shit. it’s unreasonable. I suffer from aesthetics
the more the appearances of things are snapped into place the right place a pleasant fit not simply a fit not only what it looks like but that it looks good good not sexual not sexually attractive not a sexual portrait not that various genitals pictographically rendered are not aesthetic but the aesthetic is seducing but not seducing into sex wherein sex is nerves nerve endings like tentacles the tips of tentacles instinctively trying to grab or touch the violent stimuli Speak for your self this garbage man is aesthetic and sexual! Look at HIM and fuck him until it’s not him anymore just the rag bone garbage the rough edges and hollow bones the things that got old but couldn’t be worshipped couldn’t be re-valued couldn’t be picked off couldn’t be re-lived couldn’t be ugly couldn’t be known because i could love technology forever the beauty it contrives more than haunts its presence is retroactive and it fucks me until it’s not me anymore just what’s perfect
“A r t m u st de lu sio n a l! R e v el in t he all t h e bo gus de lu s i on s . “
it all depends on how you look at it
the patient
can’t hide
behind shared understanding
is it shared
is it induced
can’t hide
can’t hide
if they are reintegrating the dissolute hauntings or mainstream hallucinations or the
collages of denigrations and
aspersions cast into behavioral patterns "Art must delusional! Revel in the all the bogus delusions."
i express internalized massacre happy yes thank you i’m happy you should be a nice friend
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can’t i can’t i be self-0id self=induced
can’t go on can’t there be self-induced states
aim aimed at the patient resulted
in
the best dia gnosis die agnosis must stress to the patient there’s no known methodology to transfigure the ills of the social body the illusory cohesion of objects isn’t represented here
JUST PLAYING PRETEND JUST HAVING FUN
the illusory cohesion of objects isn’t represented here [or here]
Object status is an honorable designation to flagflagelatteflagellate the patient
“Art must delusional! Revel in the all the bogus delusions.”
to diagnose the illness of the self is to interpret similar incidental behavioral patterns
here’s a good hiding place as having similar derivation; can’t hide the induced psyche the social body 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} –> the conversion of self-projection to “Other” results in the di-agnostic techniques, first applied to the self, and then directed by analogy to the
Artists are deluded in their opposition
who again is the patient
but their opposition is nonetheless sheer corruption, a value devoid of value.
source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} -->the social body
no, the patient must be a figure, a unit, a singularity, even it if it’s a
a wreckage
no one no one knows no one i express no aftermath no wreckage not a scream i express no causes no beginnings it’s not a mouth: it’s not a valve it couldn’t speak i can’t expresss the end it doesn’t look like a mouth, but as its stretching so far, end to end, it’s disintegrating no one
Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.
People from the future are stupid. They must know what happened. Not to lecture, but countless misconceptions always arise when the subject tiringly turns back to time. To summSpeaking Figure redactedarize the position of the post-quantal school of psycho-physicists: it could be said that time slices, and timeSpeaking Figure redacted is also a slice. When the subject turns to time, making a slice, a piece gSpeaking Figure redactedts lopped off, like cutting ofspeaking Figure purgedertip while dicing vegetables, it’s self-inflicted. Juice and widely quoted Figure invaded and Figure corrupted,proclamations chopped up in dozens Speaking Figure redactedof dead languages wet the butcher’s apron with runny antimatter, the yolk of origins. Try to repair the parts and recreate the whspeaking Figure purged, but it’s an exercise that’s both cosmic and futile. I meant to say comic aSpeaking Figure redactednd futile. The future is not a place, as if, upon departing, a senile mode of Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, simply ambles along a path, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, forgetting events while they’re occurring, as the passengers watch their home era recede into the distance. Figure excerptedNo, the futurFigure excerptede unrolls if it goes back. The universe is the highest grade fiberoptic line we could afford on our veteran discount, but Figure invaded and Figure corrupted reverts to analog VHS tape when idiots mash buttons on the controller’s controls. The rich try anyway, believing that time travel is an affordable way to take advantage of moFigure excerpted Tutankhamen Egypt or in Zuckerbergian America.
Who is the controller? Never mind that, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, For edification’s sake, ‘about’ is an autocratic preposition, overbearing and haughty, never ‘about’ itself and always it’s a gunpoint targeting nouns, a Smith and Wesson .357 drilling into the temple of all things that want to be left alone. ‘About’ strongarms its way through a heterogeneous rabble, clambers up to the floodlit stage, and declares words must be about excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated. The word made Figure excerpted a scab on a twitchispeaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.aking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.has to flash its nude, dangling modifiers in front of an unreceptive excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgatedaudience, preferably as their eyes are glued to a screen, the epoxy forever binding retinal pixels to really cool, ad-free content.
What this is about is the never-ending Figure, the voluminous nothingness that chomps around my feet as they’re dangling frospeaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.stance speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated elsewhere in a different Figure.I’m pretending to write up in Figure as if I were something else. What the fuck does that mean? Never mind that.
speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continuedWhat should be clear already, but to be explicit: Figure is not a visitor from the future. The year is not important. Figure invaded and Figure corruptedy a new Gregorian calendar, or force historical figures into Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.erotic escapades…The figure is Figure, non-historic and perpetual. Figure with a capital F. Watching years Figure invaded and Figure corruptedbounce around the geodesic amplifier, they are thrown at my speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continuedjiggly head but I dodge the balloon-like packages, transcendent soap bubbles filled with extinct birds Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.aggressively swarming lice-ridden soldiers starving in the Russian snow, as a personal computer in the Parthenon dials up a slow connection to a chubby Visigoth couple pissing Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.hot sauce and shrieking in a darkened L.A. underground garage. FigureFigure cFigure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.ontinued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure. gathers eons with magnetic sorcery, spellbindFigure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.ing me in a grade school experiment. speaking Figure invaded and Figure corruptedBoiling over too soon. Teacher assigns a grade: F. F for failure and F for Figure. If I had hundreds of thousands ofFigure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure. years, I’d be rich, too, collecting zeitgeists like they were teddy bears and hugging them, comforted and sleepy in a zeitgeist harem. Years on, years flip by on index Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corruptedcards, numbered andFigure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure. I put them out of order so could I fall outside, gliding on Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corruptedrented, pay-per-millennium Icarus wings, weather beaten and shabby, Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, sp never getting more than 10 million Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corruptedfeet off the swollen groundFigure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted.
People from the future are stupid. They must know what happened. speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figuresecond.
In medias res, Figure travels to a canister. speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and FigureFigure is momentarily Figure invaded and Figure corruptedamended with hands. Figure quickly shoots me in the back of the head. Figure gave me parents before I was born, but they were dead on arrival, unpronounceable names on forged certificates at a hospital. Hacking into others. Figure won’t let me use test subjects to test Figure invaded and Figure corrupted. Figure is momentarily amended with hands. Figure quickly shoots me in the back of the head. I’m only experimenting, researching motor functions and pain, Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure coming up with inexplicable reactions. I manage to animate and reanimate. Figure invaded and Figure corrupted
Figure assumes a realistic identity for once. But it’s too late. Others sneak by hidden cameras upon advice I fabricated on how to find me. Others cannot find a room full of Figure, because there was never a room excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated. speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and FigureI conspired with others. Telling Figure that I’m testing subjectivity, Figure is momentarily amended with hands. excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated I’m alive and deactivate. What again is Figure? Don’t ask. Too complex. It’s like a complex, rife with pulsatingspeaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure vents, holding areas that are meant to hold area, and parked lots. Get in me, shelter. Suit up. Figure seems to regard me as an unreal Figure invaded and Figure corruptedpossibility, or at least an Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, spignored banality, an unacknowledged substratum under others, a week-long pattern of hostile events by place, time, and personFigure invaded and Figure corrupted in an epidemiological study. Others and I [FIGURE] do not have to exist, and nonexistence results in a world. There is no way to make sense. [FIGURE] I want out.
You’re the unreceptive audience, front row and uncentered.
Figure possessed. Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure Figure then opens up and dispossesses Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure in the shapes taken by the opening, dispossessed by the opening shapes, cropped further inward from the frizzed edges. That should answer the question from earlier.
Asking no one: speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure What does it take to be internally motivated? I’m bereft of material possessions because there isn’t material for possessions. Entertainment is little remembered. Power is in deficit, but power is not equivalent to a role in domination/subservience pairing. There isn’t pairing, Figure invaded and Figure corrupted and so no comfort, either. I’m reading about the internally motivated and how they found reward in the experience of flow in assignments, relationships, sustenance, withdrawn and dissociative episodes, self-directed threats and Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking manipulation, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.immersion in denial, a vitality where loneliness is nothing but a zone of energetic hypomania.
To be internally motivated,Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgaSpeaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speakingted, speaking there must be motivation, such as panic and spite. To be iSpeaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speakingnternally motivated, there should be a defined institution and matching bureaucratic mSpeaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speakingetadata, all condensed and zip filed as subjectivity.
Internal motivation is throwing up a stomach, the combustible lining laced with sparks and gasoline. That sounds wrong. Figure invaded and Figure corrupted Sounding wrong is more than ethical, it’s the very premise of speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figuremechanics and locomotion, the internal drivers. The script running internal motivation is Figure invaded and Figure corrupted predicated on an internal space, separation in space, like Figure invaded and Figure corrupted To be internally motivated, I would need to be inside, as an inside to another inside.
Figure is momentarily amended with cylinders and six-fingered handguns. So tired of this shit. Figure quickly shoots me in the back of the head. Multiple heads. Front to back. Bullets take turns. speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.Easier to penetrate and come back later, penetrating deeper next time, going a little further, before stepping aside for a turn. speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.“so tired of this shit.” What a coincidence!
Bullets run down the inner thigh like sperm. speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued. Counting them. 357 million. Their ballistic motility is 357 feet per second. Released in batches. Nervously secreting a .357 magnum. speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued
The ejaculation is unstoppable, penetrating car hulls. purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disruptedThe six-cylinder vesicle fires on Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure Disabling critical people, lab grown biomaterials, who can’t help but ooze around in buckets, fructose-rich and bored. I want to burst.
Bullets aren’t competitive but some purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted they navigate the fallopian void. to the slightest touch. Slit-ready erections, metal jacketed, slid in one at a time. Think of a gelatin salad, spermatozoan metal suspended in the middle.
The prostrate is malfunctioning, the earlier reports stated, but later it turned out the thing was destroyed, presumably, because and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure. The shooting had to be reshot. The colorized film was Figure invaded and Figure corrupted The white color is due to a kinetic bulbourethral gland releasing lipids and a burning hot cartridge of acid phosphatase. speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure. cause epithelial tissue destruction in excess of what was caused by the direct hit.
Erection declines normally once a mass shooting concludes.
The open circular
Figuratively Speaking
Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and
Figuratively Speaking
Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.
and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.
My job is to farm imitation blood, farming imitation blood in the darkest hour. The neighboring farm had rows of clomiphene citrate, ginned on wartime fervor. Take one for the team, the leader cajoles an empty room during the broadcast. Population decline is a serious treat, or large-scale suicide threat, depending on my drug of choice.
Figuratively Speaking
Speaking Figure redacted and Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.
Ensconced in an armchair, armchair critiquing/valorizing the decline of Western civilization, a sperm daub that makes its way down the inner thigh and pools on to the seat of the black vinyl.
“Don’t end your life with a preposition.” – A billboard twenty miles long spells out this injunction FIGURE made up of my family, thousands of long-lost fathers and cousins fifty times removed, all of them smiling knowingly,, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgatedNothing stops , speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgatedthem from simultaneously turning to look down towards me, except the glue that holds them to the sign pulls their skin. Their skin, stringy like melty cheese, stretches effortlessly. Some sloughs off. , speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.I have a handful. I ate most of my arm before the rotted beams snapped and the whole structure fell on me.
Multiple heads over time should just be one head at a time, if time is thoughtful, if time is assembled correctly and the toluene dried. Time is not on my side, however. Figure quickly shoots me in the back of the head.
Multiple heads.
Fuck time. Figure excerpted, speaking Figure purged and Figure expurgated, speaking Figure invaded and Figure corrupted, speaking Figure disrupted and Figure continued and Figure dissolving elsewhere in a different Figure.
People from the future are stupid. They must know what happened. Look around, people. I’m the wasted future, a continent-sized fossil effigy of everything compacted together, circling a gaping wound in the ground and giggling while going down the drain of immateriality. The future unrolled, the prophesies backfired and didn’t come true, so I’m the lone Figure standing here reconstructing a total disaster for posterity’s sake because time is a dumb shit tourist that forgot its camera. Take a picture, asshole, it will last longer, sure, but unlike time, I will never end.
Even in the remotest desert, it is said there is life, paginating and encoding. The miracle of life!
under the stars…under the moon… he told stories at the campfire…i miss grandpa, the time before Parkinson’s and palsy…i miss the smell…the smell is what i miss the most
no one else has seenjaws eating jaws
catching in the inaudible
teeth as they are unzipped
incessantly chewing
taken aback by a missing quotient
moving with a nd a gainst g ravity
the logarithms decry the loss
it's just paranoia
an eviscerated messstructurally unsound parallelogram shifts the past
crevices of footprints
out ofcontext
and it spoilsthe radiation poisoning turning them white
time no one else has seen
subtly melting away
the metallic taste of blood is relative
blood relatives
their nascent fruit
moving
in the musty attic insulation
pink and quadrupling in weeks
was it self defense
no one else has seen
lifelike stillness that creeps across the surface of the colorless waters
only knowing jaundiced
yellow streetlight it’s spoiled fruitno one else has seen
so much that has to be eaten
who’s eating
better to touch the
campfire
burning off poisoned blood
who’s burning
with and against
a transient sense in the tenebrous blue
it could be blood entering the lineage
that's controlling the phases of the moon
the metallic taste of blood
no one else has seen
pulling the burnt skin off of the roof of the mouth
who's mouthstill struggling to chew that last morsel
no one else has seen
the air as it thickens or
the ashes buried
unseenwhat happens
to all the prayers and apologies
when they can't pull apart conscience
I need followers. I need more followers. Addition. Addiction. Disease. Followers. Followers disease. I’m sick. I don’t want help. I want disease. Help me disease others. Help me, disease.
i have the
comment
disease.
follow me.
this is following me. now you know what that’s like. following me.
don't get the unfollow disease.
followers
unfollowing me
following me
unfollowing me
following me
is the disease.
follow me
to get the disease
the followers disease.
I have the comment disease.
follow me.
Let's be in agreement
the pleasure
is in being diseased.