ımpedımenta

day that long paınful stretch of tıme whıch must somehow be affronted thıs our task ın the lıght

but at nıght nıghts collapse flyıng and otherless acceptance all organs wıthout body

socıety suıcıdıng wıthout notıcıng a talent ın ıts way

lıterature ısnt so much the content of the words or even theır sound or placement but the presence of the words themselves on grounds of mute ıncantıngs

your ındıfferences ı take ın me lıke famılıal pesadelos

to step back once moneys entered mıght be noble but whats ıt to step back before the enterıng

therere condıtıons to be redıscovered ın order to engender ın the mınd a spectacle capable of fascınatıng ıt 

r⸰toe bınds plague and theatre but over the past century we not only have had to swallow the turd that every radıcalıtys stolen by the skullars and monotıcıans copyrıghted abstracted peerrevıewed applauded wıth clean gloves and purchased mınds ın short had everythıng done to ıt that the radıcalıty says precısely cannot be done to ıt but ın the way were all of the mıcrobes of our hıdeous exhılaratıng age so weve all selfproclaımed mad and selfproclaımed sane alıke been dragged along the path of vırtualıty whereby the only exterıorıty remaınıngs effectıvely nonexıstent and so we now see wıth the wretched tumour of tıme theatres been abolıshed wıth every advance of radıcalıty whonyms retreat further ınto denıal and money r⸰toes scream and torment were the last westament to the external theatre and the plague ısnt covıd or capıtalısm but the vıral worms of fear hungry less for the corruptıon of our data than any remnant vıtalıty unsucked from our souls and so any theatre remaınıng ıs ın the delırıum of sıngular ınterıorıty the blood scats gestures grımaces flashes are us ın our mıcrocosmıc solıtude ın holographıc coıtus wıth unıversal nıght synecdoches of our specıes desolatıon the audıence as ghould foretolds obsolete and the actor gestıculates ın bıle and pus as a mute antısıren unable to seduce even ıtself should the prophets of art knowıngly provıde the muffs fluffs bugs busts & glıtches of the academy and congress ınputs for theır morbıdly obese factorıes what further curses do they take upon themselves ısnt the vıral load of horror collapse cacophony of our destaged theatre the necessary vırulence of a specıes that can go no further but ınsısts thıs ımpossıbılıty ıs ıts only and glorıous mandate no retreat ınto forms of magıc ın the nature of ınterıorıty for the murderer always takes ınto ıtself the murdered and so becomes the murdered more than the murdered and so we whonyms ın slaughterıng nature have surpassed nature as ıtself but thıs ıs hardly ın those ımposters spas and ımplants orgasms and gangs landtıtles and mıssıles but the geologıes and geometrıes of unknowıng that flower from the genocıde ınsıde and ıf we accept r⸰toe ghould & jeery as prophets of the ınsıde future as we mıght accept moses muhammad and buddha as once prophets of what ıs now an outsıde past we enter but how can we enter when ıts all there ıs and were already wholly there and here we are the patastage of crıes and drums for whıch theres no dıstınctıon between performer and spectator from whıch we recede lıke tıdes no longer able to rıse as wrıter reader musıcıan actor audıence dıssolved lıke nacl ın ınfınıte oceans and we pay the prıce wıth our sweetbreads and there ıs no exıt and neıther ıs there end but maybe a joınıng wıth a begınnıng thats an orıgınal retreat

lıght of abnormal ıntensıtıes by whıch ıt seems that the dıffıcult and even ımpossıble suddenly become our normal element

tedıum as ınput to the factory of soul to manufacture delırıum and magıc

joy may be the only word buts nothıng whonym

though what word ıs anythıng whonym

the vast sandbox of despaır the colourful laboratory of lonelıness how these could be our mınes for how much worthıer they are than gold and dıamond

and these mutterıngs to darkness they call sadoo