i confess to never having lost my precarious love for the donut women of my youth large sugary cancerous circles of dough cackling around the clock of my heart spherical bawds of coloured goo and gossip disasters of the nose and infernos of digestion how ive fantasized about having them squished together as my beloved soiled mattress masturbating on the quaggy down of their meat feeling them squelch under my unctuous heavings heavy clouds above the bathtub and ornamental morbidities in my garden oh glory and memory and love
i used to never sleep or think i never slept or at least say so and would respond to queries about my lack of sleep with ill sleep when im dead like a bravado plumcake from some wayward smurfland but now i sleep all the time nine hour marathons exhausted on waking napping for two or three hours after breakfast more in the afternoon dreaming of sleep and more sleep maybe its longcovid but that would make me hip so its probably just some autodevouring cancer of the soul sleep is the new cum is thought in a brief waking episode in which i down an ineffective coffee and an effective absinthe take an elephantine dump look at the vomitorium to see whats happening in the world how soon our faces shall melt then careen back into the great coffin of the bed yin and yang as bàbá freyhoven loringtag says from her tincan tits lethargy and oblivion are the new energy is thought who needs anything whod ever want to wake to the reality youve committed to
what im trying to do is use my life as a laboratory to explore the effects of a certain kind of protest on the sarcous soul a protest against the order of existence anthropocentrism if you want to use that term a diminishment of spirit an elevation of solidity over other states of matter naturally to use one life in such a way will yield little in the way a single early experiment by a scientist might be a complete failure but in its way contributes over many years decades or even centuries to some discovery that contributes somehow to some amelioration these confessings along with the vast sewage of the other writings of pataooQ and the many olorous decstatic sadoos are the ongoing laboratory report of my experiment i know its flawed limited misguided blind but isnt yours too
a friend or acquaintance or someone told me recently whacks of whonym females were getting pregnant after their covid booster which along with the threat of nuclear war raises the spectre that therell be alota nineheaded children with say pfizer as their mom and raytheon as their dad progress
i confess to believing most virilely that the only battles between the mystics and the warriors but theres no common battlefield
i confess to disbelieving in history not as any factoid or factory of factoids but as an impetus for breath
i confess to feeling more pride knowing how to negotiate panfried brussels sprouts and chopstix than for having once and briefly been a prof i confess to the only noble feeling i had in that dark episode was giving my finger to tenures tribe
my life dream is to locate and pilgrimage to the mecca of confessings and join with my spiritual siblingren offering encomia at the altars of avowings
im taking today as a mental disease day whonyms take mental health days but i dont see any results from them whereas my mental disease days are productive wild huge results i should be awarded a pillitzer in interior investigative journalism
the days sag like my butt and on the droopy looseness i scribe my tales
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