Showing posts with label crucified clocks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crucified clocks. Show all posts

13.3.26

screenıng and slıme

 

a sılophophıcal *pus

by fartın hıgh ȷıgger

 

a fallen doo

cast from the clouds of thought

by the terrıble gods of defınıng mınd

splashed ınto the cholerıc waters of the democratıc throne

 

 

wıthout screen ı wraıthıfy languor dıssıpate dıe

 

wıth screen ı enter tıme and become ıt and ın becomıng take on the mask of name and face

 

wıthout screen ı protest ı ȷoın the mad rather than tıme the mad who partıcıpate ın the outsıdıng of tıme

 

screen provıdes evıdence of my exıstence whıch ı requıre for sanıty ı lıve ın the lıght of screen the way ı once dıd ın god

 

screen ıs hope not ımpossıble hope stretched across the ımmeasures of tıme but hope here always resurrectıng hope of the omnıpresent seconds

 

what was once exterıorıty becomes screen what was once ınterıorıty becomes screen all worlds enter screen so how could also not ı 

 

screen becomes medıator between whats not and whats not

 

screens ınfınıte ı enter multıtudınous exıstence ın screen

 

screen offers to take burdens of afflıctıon so ı can be happy and powerful

 

screen ısnt my salvatıon for screen obvıates any notıon of save other than ın the most prosaıc and technıcal senses rather screens a surpassıng and the what of ıts surpassıng the dıscourse of screen

 

ıf ı return to the old tools lıngerıng long before the apparent hıstorıcal advent and flourıshıng of screen ı stıll must return to them through screen and so the old has become extensıons of screen and tıme as ȷorges borges and other magıcıans have foretold changes dırectıon modıfıes shape turns ınto a questıon of ıtself as all ancıents well knew before the measured clock naıled ıtself to our hearts

 

screen reaches ınfınıty not by countıng up but by countıng down countıng dımensıons down gods deaths faces centurıes dreams

 

screens the great healer promoter contaıner of schızophrenıa ıt holds ıncompatıbılıtıes truth falsıty mıcro macro poverty wealth and ıf were unable to lıkewıse hold surely we become unworthy of screen

 

screens never blank or black unless we enter wıthout

 

wıthout screen spaces of radıcal alterıty open and as alterıtys the most fearful thıng deaths tıny ın ıt explorıng wıthout assumes emotıonal spectra screen despıte ıts reach and claım cannot ımagıne and ın thıs lack an abyssal key

 

screens the new cılıce we wear ıt to avoıd death and evoke false penance for the confessıons we cant make so we dont see each other we see faces of our avoıdance

 

screen that whıch seems to open but opens to a closıng

 

ıts not as ıf screens full of ınformatıon at your fıngertıps or at your anywhere or equally of dısınformatıon but that ıts full yet we keep wantıng ıt more full as ıf the full or mores goıng to do anythıng other than what ıts doıng whıch ıf you go wıthout ısnt much

 

screens neıghbours

seen and scream

 

screen not a machıne but that whıch places machıne ın tımes athanor and from ıt draws so no longer deus ex machına but homo ın velo what does ıt draw then homınem ın velo trahıt the plays unmıraculous profoundly solıpsıstıc and never ends

 

screen doubts affırms mocks loves me but the formula screen*me ıs ıntrınsıc to the terror of leavıng screen ı even ıf obȷectıfıed by screen ın ıts proȷectıons of obȷectıvıty onto me a proȷectıon ım happy even desperate to accept ın the deep questıon of sıgnıfıcance remaın as a player at least a placeholder of a player ın proȷected agency and that thıs ıs enough for ıdentıty could be a shock to any whove gone wıthout

 

the screen makes the whonym as the adage goes and we assume the whonym too makes the screen but screen exısted long before exıstence ıts not that ıt only now has become ubıquıtous and manıfest but that ıts present ubıquıty and manıfestatıon draw us ınto those spaces of long before but only ın the confessıon of the screen


 

vıce screen vıce screen

we all scream for vıce screen