∆19

∆19

∆19
∆19

p

eriodically or more create content and form one disagrees with, even despises … these creations emerging not from any intent, volitional or ideological, but quite spontaneously and contextually from the lived experience of one’s contradictions, one’s not-oneness with oneself, one’s manyisms, of the multiplex no that can’t unlike in most be suppressed as it’s as fertile as any yes

w

ords more than any other material for they’re up for the jurisprudence of speaking take language to court. what’s the verdict? and what the sentencing? language is incarcerated without doubt but in minimum or supermax? solitary confinement? torture? capital punishment? and if words can convict, can they also pardon or at least jailbreak language, even for brief times as language inevitably will be returned to its confinement, guilty as it is of the entire litany of all possible crimes

c

onventional society launders obsession by turning it into structure and so effectively isn’t objecting to obsession when it objects to obsession as much as a lack of laundering. it prefers a pretense of whiteness. but any creator knows in its night the fortysecond chapter of the whale and this knowledge itself an obsession that can never be cleaned being too restless and hungry to ever be subject to the caress of soap and structure

i

’m assigned to ∆19 after having transgressed the minor code of jerusabul and forced to pass through the judicial detections of the obversion of eyes. i had read of it once in the ahistorical annals of a compulsive absence and the intimations weren’t well. emily d’s there with me but she says nothing, just staring at the penguin politics with expressions of forgotten love and the fear of tepid art. i’m infatuated with her and attempt to woo her with my special trick of singing turds but she doesn’t flinch and i’m an unrequited man

s

ome say the opaqueness of each singularity necessitates a communication resembling not simply the smoke of a wildfire but the smoke of a wildfire of its origins, whether plasmatic, incidental, or arsonite, effectively ensuring that communication, like everything of its name, is devoted to doing precisely what its name does not

t

he sport of sport shifts to the sport of virus. to sit before poodwaddle and watch the deaths by country climb each hour is infinitely more exciting than watching a basketball game. to see bc edge closer and finally surpass ont in confirmed cases, especially considering its smaller population, is to witness a suddendeath victory. adrenalin spikes, liquor's consumed, toilets are flushed

a

t the back of a tram delphidao and doktor ziz are in atmospheres of suppressed coughs perusing classified documents that provide incontrovertible evidence of the staging of sow-fee gee-tee’s coronavirus confirmation. they have in front of them certified minutes of a meeting between unnamed very extremely senior parties that determined a staging would provide the following benefits : modelling for the people of the nation the grave seriousness of the situation, demonstrating for the people of the nation that as even the migh and highty can be stricken so the lowly must tremble for their own insignificant lives, providing the head of state some time off in the country to fuck his good and curvaceous spouse without having to worry about getting inflicted by the endless riffraff of idiots who grace his very right honourable’s presence every day in routine & regular times … may novel viruses come more often the doo does mutter in their cloistered cuebeck quaquaquaqua coitus