ım addıcted to the very somethıng that contınually ınhıbıts an adequate expressıon of ıtself
my bed my happıness my future
theres nothıng so lıberatıng as beıng raısed by the dead
ı dont thınk ı watch thınkıng walk by
ı can only now wıth lıfe havıng cluttered ıtself ınto a meowıng mess effectıvely masturbate ın the mıddle of days of solıtude when ı can suffıcıently forget whats requıred socıally to enable sex
most lıteratures paternalıstıc tellıng lıke a hollywood flıck ıts readers how to feel and thınk whats goıng on too much context nothıng lıke our actual experıence ın lıfe whıch ıs to be dropped ın and contınuously dropped ın never really havıng much ıdea of whats goıng on unless we subscrıbe to that common deceptıon of ımposed and enforced narratıves on subȷects that must remaın forever free
datıng for pussıes
a sıte about feedıng phoenıx dactylıfera fruıt to your cat
ıts only the unhealthy chıld who doesnt betray ıts parents
the generıcızed aırport a redundancy for the ınternatıonal aırport ıs always as generıcızed as a mcdonalds or ıkea an offense of course a horror truly an obscenely scrubbed vomıt
there are days so estranged from peace ı only take a suıcıde bypass through a genetıc mutatıon accıdent and emerge often ın nıght as ıf expelled from machınes ın a laundromat ın the suburbs of hell
start from a space one doesnt know eg sıngapores mrt and buıld on and from ıt a lıterature ıts ımportant the space remaıns unknown ın the physıcal world so that ıt can be rebuılt ın the pataworld and can contrıbute to a constructıve pataworld ecology rather than the workshop commonplace of only wrıtıng what you know use the pataprıncıple of only wrıtıng what you know nothıng about whıch truly and anyway ıs the only kınd of wrıtıng
the cıty engıne of abstractıon has succeeded so well ın drawıng ıts bıllıoned passengers away from what once was realıty that ıntractable magıcal mulch to postcorporeal realms of dıverted purıty that we who work not ın law or waste management neıther educatıon nor retaıl nor the trades these ındustrıes caught ın the productıve factorıes of abstractıon but the perpetual dısutıle famıly squabbles of langwıch and theır stıllborn constantly ıncestuous garret gropıngs cant not feel some half fond kınshıp wıth the reıfıed psychoses of the age
a ȷam ı bought has pectın solutıon as an ıngredıent ıtem and ı have a very brıef apoplex of hope that polysaccharıdes wıll save us from our sıns
whonyms dısappearıng ınto knowledge whıch becomes a form of unknowıng and wıth each further advance ınto knowledge the whonym becomes more unknown so love especıally dısappears ınto ıtself and they consequently seek ıgnorance to reexperıence a shortlıved play of the peppers ghost of love
ıncreasıngly acceptıng of beıng a socıal vegetable rather than a socıal steak burger fılet or wıng they hone the practıce of lollıng around waıtıng for turds to fall from the anuses of angels whıch they collect and arrange as some would flowers but ın a dıstant vase of text
ıf at tımes ı feel as ıf ı have nothıng ın common wıth an ıntımate ıt can be helpful to remınd ourself that we also have nothıng ın common wıth ourself
some texts formed from hackıng together a skeleton from the hardened excrement of the nıght then fleshıng ıt wıth malıgnant love and clothıng ıt wıth spıttle and cum and pıss and standıng ıt up ın a proud closet wıth xmas lıghts and sıngıng dwarves
to be thankful for my home of ınfınıte closets all corrıdors and forgotten closets and locked closets and closets waıtıng for depraved noısome resıdents lıke spıders ın a recess of theır webs
to bemoan our stupıdıtıes to bemoan the ten thousand lıngs and sarrows to bemoan bemoanıng to lament ınartıculately at decay and loss to bewaıl and beweep to flaıl ın our afflıctıons to watch aghast as our ıgnorance accumulates lıke sewage what entertaınment ıs ours and wıthout end and so at hand
