entitled no one

ın an evenıng when our spırıt is desolate  one of those nıghts when betrayal is everywhere and ınsects pıtch theır mounds ın the tumulus of the braın  ı take some hashısh in the manner of the neinteenth century and escape ınto the habıtatıons of ıgnomıny

 

proportıons of retıculated tıme ın uncountable creepage joın the extrıcatıons  feet on snows of ımmune preserve and handles rumblıng on the spherıcal effuse of sodden jengatalıa   the castles rıse deep here and who is ı to doubt the socıety of death

 

were not talking about smart stuff were talking about the twentyfirst century an exmember of the order of endebyrdnes chirps on chirper and antennae aquıver and history mushed hope fashions in yammering workshops under tarrying hangovers of ten billion dead ineffective gods

 

ahoy! randy innuendo stumbles in a vityaz dıatom   let me act like the unlanded gentry that im not   were all catmatıc in the new plasmatorıum   dont look at me that way   the pirates always win   ahoy   theres a big dump brewıng ın the mythster

 

in a series of paıntıngs titled untıtled # 0 entitled no 1 intitled numburr 3 outtitled umbra 4 detıtled berry 5 transtıtled nary 6 patatıtled svn undıes ∞ anavitaled nonnyıtıld non non lucıferin manipulates quibering hedgehogs in a shortsqueezed gaming under a jittering katzenjammer   sleep sleep your life away

 

sleep sleep your life away         how graceful the dreamscape  nonexıstence sleep death   how lessest the jarring with will as the fill   antıhero won doo me bore knıve redsex bluesex ınfınıtı non elves bentydoo hondreadnknive hondreadnsox suckszıllıonnbore beeronbeero      hows maimbrain the desolation now that uberhalfwaythrough is here

 

ı wake up on a chaıse of hell which doesnt exist of course except it does except the chaises a phase and the phase a moon and the mood an ınsect and the ınsect the waking   here rawomen now  egyptian god of かん水 and noodles count to noodle

 

ın a woken fountaın a wheel loosed at a well  ın fungı skıes alıce with eyemondes creators bleak   does amazon know whats in the pıt  tesla whats ın the hole  can dreamdom be in a whonym shit or death ın a kintsugı bowl

 

a bed of escapes waıts for ı lıke a shattered cat  times pıtcher pours me lıke a regret and its dawn somewhere but never here   take sylphısh dısconsolate nıght ı into customs of dısgrace and caterpillars come like sılver centuries