dear peoclaptra

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dear terocalpa

here you are representing the dead and powerful and here i am or something is representing or depresenting the living and patapowered and i thought i’d take this opportunity (for what else do we call it?) to write you

yesterday you texted me when i was looking for coconut oil in a confused and droopy supermarket – an exercise that was strangely doomed as all i found was a mute argentinian amid shoppers so thick i felt i was navigating a dense forest of moving trees in a chromatic and replete sheol – and i was too immersed in thinking that mysticism has always been godless mysticism – it’s just the mystics in a goded dominant culture had to – to varying degrees – encode the godlessness in god (or rather a false godlessness) and the reduction of this apparent necessity without (perhaps naturally) any seeming reduction in the mystical orientation and possibly even an increase due to factors requisite and maybe calamitous has led or is leading to a state (or rather flow) of a remanufactured mysticism often (perhaps quite appropriately) called by other names many of which we’re clueless of to respond

you texted art’s the only true religion as it’s the only one not stupid enough to attempt to agree with itself and who am i to disagree?

you texted compensation has many faces and i prefer to get compensation through void that way you’re always getting compensated

you texted humans are destroying their home and as many others as possible and so themselves through a spiritual defect they’re so committed to they can’t acknowledge it

you texted i never want to work but want language to work in my place

you texted a little story about while and gall in the resistance

you texted news of eightyone shades of shade and a composting so intricate and vast even the most accomplished gardener merges with it

you texted of the hallucinations that reality conjures and their holographic embeddedity in reality

you texted of doubt and desolation and beauty and nonchalance

you texted of running away to find freedom and only finding new forms of slavery and this not negating the moving not because moving's wisdom but because moving’s moving

and no wonder i didn’t find the coconut oil or respond and the argentinian was mute and you’re dead and presents with or without prefixes still live