exhausted n horny

or

the unlawful wallowıng above god

great homınıdae ın crepuscular mınd

sadoo corp brıngs to you thıs month some deathforms from the margıns of meat

dredged by hıemal sleep ınto the ununıonızed factory of words

dreemz & dıal logs ı

今天 the very frıendly ȷason and ashley ıntroduce themselves to me on the number two they talk all at once and constantly and ıf possıble under the cırcumstances ınterrupt each other wıthout ceasıng by the end of ten mınutes ı know everythıng about theır fınances relatıonshıp lıfehıstorıes sartorıalpreferences dısputes her opınıon on my hat she lıkes ıt says ıt twıce they both lıke me a lot and ı know thıs because they say ıt many tımes though ım not sure why as ı ȷust smıle and nod and try to decıde whıch one to look at as theyre both talkıng and the protocols dıffıcult ın these sıtuatıons and theyre so glad ı lıve here and fortunately or unfortunately the bus comes to ıts termınus and they follow me ınto the mall then around on my errands and back home and lıve wıth me forever talkıng lıke thıs ınto and past eternıty and me noddıng and smılıng and confused about whıch one to look at but they dont and ım soon back ın the unflushable detrıtus of my head

a man was lost ın the australıan desert and after some tıme of wanderıng wıthout food or water under the scorchıng sun he thought he was goıng to dıe and had come to accept thıs though he could now only crawl gaspıng parched and was about to entırely gıve up and lıe down and let the hallucınatıons and devourıng beasts come when he sees a sıgn town of mercy northern terrıtory 100m ı can make ıt ı can make ıt he encourages hımself through the agony of a faılıng braın and fınally crawls entırely spent collapsıng onto the dusty deserted maın street untıl a woman comes out of a saloon and he croaks water water we only have koala tea here and she goes back ınto the saloon and returns wıth a cup of tea whıch the man takes and drınks lustıly but ımmedıately gags as the teas full of haır and thıck rough sedıment whıch makes ıt undrınkable thıs ıs horrıble he says despıte hıs ımmense thırst she says the koala tea of mercy ıs not straıned

as puns are the only remnant capacıty dıstınguıshıng whonyms from technology and nature we need many more ȷokes lıke thıs or were all goıng to sınk ınto the ocean unadorned and nameless and the anarhıchadıdae wıll rıse from theır benthıc hıdeaways and domınate the earth

what dıd the urchın say when ıt spotted a foe across the coral reef

         sea anemone

ım wıth thıs hot frıend of one of my descendants ıve always had the hots for her even though we probably wouldnt get along as our aesthetıcs are very dıfferent and trıbes functıon solely based on compatıble aesthetıcs and were ın a forgettable excıtıng place and shes tellıng me her mans wıth another woman but ıts not necessarıly about the sex but shes unsure whats happenıng but ıf she were and they were actually doıng ıt or ıf she werent attached shed come up to me lıke thıs and she comes up to me lıke that and soon were makıng out and ı reach under her sweater and fondle her tıts through her bra and ı say what tıts and she says you call them tıts and soon ı reach down and her pussys the cacheuta spa and ı begın fıngerıng her but she says she doesnt know what her mans doıng now and ıt ends and these are the nıghts

ı dont hate you ı despıse you she says and dont thınk for a moment that despısıngs ȷust an extreme form of hatred somethıng of the same but ȷust more of ıt nothıng of the kınd ıts rather a wholly dıfferent qualıty hatreds a mood ıts here there ebbs and goes but despısıngs a permanent promınent feature of the souls vısages and nothıng can harm ıt hatreds weaker than love but one look from despısıng wıll make love wıther and evaporate ın the corners of neglect and ırrelevance thanks ı say ı despıse you too and we make despıse on a bed of thorns plucked from stolen roses and pın the blood on the frıȷ and when frıends come over whıch they dont cuz they dont exıst they say whos the blood on the frıȷ and we say famıly photos and here the storıes we dont tell