DEBRIS FLOW ZONE
Please guard my bed.
Mt. Berman
The most amount of literature I’ve written was song lyrics. The second, suicide notes. Both of which never actualized. There is a grandeur in believing yourself to be dead, deader than most. I am my own undertaker. Intricately mapping out subspace routes towards oblivion. Not bothering to check if one considers themselves to still be alive. I never feel like I have the authority to proclaim anything. To generalize, summarize the human condition. Why human, anyway? Do they still lynch you for despising your own species? My vocal cords torn up by incessant coughing, misery in a million more incarnations. It is only at the heights of despair may I muster up the courage to confide, between these words, these germs in my spit. More, I must. And so.
What-Want
The future holds less water than you'd think. Tonight is another long, anxious one to be forgotten two frazzled naps 4-6 hours from now. Insomniacs long for the day their condition is finally validated as an Olympic sport. Eventually the dread does subside. The future is too far, too insignificant. The moment is not worth complaining about and yet cannot adequately equate to those otherwise equally quiet nights. I don't miss being a particular age although the “what”, which orbits everything does appeal to me a great deal. Going to a big box store still means a lot to me. The spiritual access, the marginal excess, the racketeering. You become stuck in the flux of total disillusionment, periodic anti-intellectualism, self-gratifying antics, and hours of idling by. Do we merely live or merely survive? Do we pass on genes or pass on legacy? Are we at war? With whom? Can we stop? Why don't we? People always seem to have the answers withheld, possessing a cruel in-joke like spiteful in-laws. I can feel myself getting more basic. Feeling stumped. What are these impotent sentences? Empty cowskulls on the wayside. I lack effigies. Find a better way to say, life goes on. Perhaps it's healthy to give oneself some leeway. One more lane to fix the congestion. Nevermind the actual bottleneck, a grueling task to be taken care of. Sometimes we manage to convince ourselves we don't need a lot to be happy. Sometimes we can even think happiness is unnecessary. Unattainable. A distant yet somehow concrete object to be held crassly, like the lifeless doll of a human baby. If you drool long enough it becomes a river. A flowing water mass with humble origins, origins best not examined too closely. Literature is a poor man's reality. I'm increasingly horrified to discover I'm not as opinionated as just six months prior. It has also become increasingly apparent to me that I do not wish for much. The verbosity that normally precludes me from my true feelings is rather cumbersome by now. Yes, I realize now, it is with pill-swallowing ease that one hides behind metaphors and butchered poetics. Feeling small in my defeat, the tears choking back, a numbing horror lurking behind digital footprints and a simple procedure on the most popular search engine conglomerate of all time. I do look back in awe. I do look forward with trepidation. I am an impulsive creature and the reason why spam folders exist. I can type out so much and yet say absolutely nothing all at once. This is the sort of word vomit superpower I could deem as my birthright but perhaps for once I can just take a step back to witness the entire picture. Problem is, the world never stops being a picture. Is that the kind of dictum we start throwing around in these parts? What do we have to do, to reach anywhere that is not the current moment? A pale, gilded gift. Contours of which razor-sharp, suffering with ease.
Technology, like chairs, have been constantly failing on me lately. Instincts of mine have also gone haywire. I'm being fed with faulty instructions. Society beckons us to be a pull medium - a commodity that (unknowingly) attracts others. Moths to a solo flame, existing without want. Such bullshit. Or perhaps I'm too jaded. Still got a lot left to undo. In any case I do not feel lonely. I'm just antsy for no reason and always on the brink of passing out. One gasps for not air, but rather something more sinister in this day and age. Typing paragraphs out on a smartphone inherently cheapens the point, let alone reading it on vertical plasma. Every damn thing that glows lessens the punch. So bland and smooth. Infant-proof. I want to register something that cuts. Shreds. Chips teeth. Gorges. Something bloody. I want to chew on something still screaming, thrashing for survival, passing the threshold of grim acceptance. A warm sorrow balances the act. Serendipitous encounters destroy the puppetry. I enjoy having a meal with others. I enjoy testing our differences. I enjoy a friendly presence. I enjoy clear-cut reciprocation. No anxious guessing. No coyless ambiguity. It becomes tiring when it starts to feel like a chore. Very simple. Perhaps our expectations were fried long ago. Is there compassion in the madness? Hope doesn't always manifest itself from something benign. It may be feigned. Self-restraint is one of the biggest scams in human history. That and numbers. Cut out the time lost, cut out the space between. Something wicked, this way, come. I don't even know what the stakes are at this point. It's thoroughly a selfish endeavor. Maybe I'm just really bored, toying with my id, torturing my conscience, ignoring their autonomy. In any case I'm ready to call it quits. Being a pro bono brain surgeon on standby 24/7 is not easy. You sit around waiting for the pager to go off, just to be summoned into another level of stress. Then you probe around other people's brains, still unable to tell what they thought of their lunch hours prior. It doesn't even pay. Rotting heart on cuffed sleeves reeking with neolithic artificiality. Hopefully, I'm proven wrong.
Indeed our lives are no better than the ones we exploit. Drowned, bloated, voluptuous victims loitering in Dr. Who theme parks. Grotesque behavior notwithstanding. If I were to go anywhere it is to convince myself of living. Restore some ancient faith in mankind. Yes, we built all this for a purpose. Yes, modernity working as intended. Yes, I will merge into my fellow pedestrians. Yes, the drainpipes and the cobblestone roads and the manmade ponds and the yachts parked from M to Q and the acid rain corroding it all. Drip, drip, dripping. The dog-collar leashes and the urban ziggurats and the wooden footbridges and the local artisan garden clay workshops. Squadrons of monopolistic living under the pretense of a sun which burns hot. A jade shore reflecting the underbelly of a crumbling pier. Here we decide not to collectively strive towards some gargantuan task to overcome, some manner of defeat so alien in thinking and conceptualization. There’s nothing worth fighting over anymore in the 21st-century mode of secular, hyperindividualized (neo-)liberal enlightenment. We are left to contest with the fact we must die and sports must die and dogs and clouds must die. I run my hands through my hair and my face. Digging trenches a globe-cycle around the gravity of my core character. Morose and silent. Obtuse and stuffed. Prolonged tongs misused in combat. What advertisements we get, we brandish. Then bouts of fear, of anxious rocking that back-and-forth motion of perverted multitudes, a contiguous debris flow zone, mountain exercise of shame and guilt and primal forces of framed reckoning. Covering the face, stitching up the eyelids, rubbing the nose, grunting in disapproval. Scowl at the sight of those average surfers, of weak men in the middle of completing a joke. Pay attention now. Don’t you dare live in this fleeting moment. There’s nothing for you here. There’s nothing to do right by. All that’s left for you to decipher is the dust yet to be swept and the deathbed yet to be made. What torment we are tasked with, we bear poorly. We endure loss like burn-ward patients. Bumbling idiots with their leashes. Yipping cripples. Twelve steps from the roof access fifty steps from the bridge handrail seven to the noose four to the muzzle two to the trigger eight to the medicine cabinet and fifteen to the knife rack. A rough script of handling drug dealers looking to expand their portfolio can be applied to any given social situation. Your collapse is important to us. Please stay on. Each sluggish thought translates to a hasty maneuver. Apathy towards humanity. An inept oblivion unable to get their severance bonus. Crying cripples. Fawning cripples. I throw up constantly in my mouth to leave marks around ambulance lots. Pawning off cripples. Then where we wear the gown proves vital. Before navigating people you must fill them up with glue. I have since given up writing final drafts. Always some reason to be places, to be someone, to not be between. I’ve come here to drag, to steal, to vacuum. Motel star employee carpet cleaner premium rates one-time max cash-back guarantee. Fever-living, in the moment. Every second a horror. Nonstop knife-twisters. Weathering it all. We are staunch provisioners of endless misery. Harbingers of ourselves. Moments of mercy are rather laughable attempts at bootlegging death. Cheap pornography, alcoholism, psychotropics, dung beetles hoarding manure. We ration it. It’s our fucking jobs. Livelihoods. Entire ecosystems of suffering. No frames at all. The auteurist left disappointed. And now I try to convince myself it was nothing special. Every second lived is a second too long. Death squandered. Trip over and die. “At long last.” We’ll all say.
An exit, perhaps. My face presses against the marsh-mellow air of nanoparticles. The sky rains sewage and body parts run amuck. Silly ha-hoos pretend human building relations in ten-feet apartment story symbols, kill for breakfast and the bills at large. Luck of the draw, he say she say hearsay leeway. Launchpad depression in sound canal of an Indian existence instead the proof is in the pudding or rather the hoof is in the wedding. Must-lobotomy must-look must-have signs of life. Dreary dreary times. Call it all off. Tear the veneer. Save the paneer. Murder the pioneers. Yeah we consummate. Yeah we deliberate. Okay checkpoint go through go now you’re safe now. Bed still unmade. I swear to god if that dog barks one more time sans affection. Sans morality. Sans equilibrium. Drinking million old water and tight bead weaving basket artefacts of stolen stolen towering crowning achievement. Anything is mighty edible anything can be found the cultural spirit the passport of existence the manifesto of milquetoast perseverance. Your display does not amaze. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. maybe the fear and loathing have finally settled in. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. i am going to give up on capitalizing this because who am i showing this to other than me. maybe some punctuation maybe some half-assed grammar maybe i’ll try to keep my bristles nice and neat and clean but what else? what else is there? i keep gawking. is that all i am capable of? just some one-dimensional facial scanner who values nothing beyond what is immediately realized? can i begin to consider myself as having actual intellectual depth other than some feigned smarts which i have been using to get by for the last two decades? I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. my burden to bear. how unfortunate we all are to be forced to reckon with these unpleasantries. write write write write write these words and it all comes down to a waterfall of falsehoods and scammed elderlies. i am not angry and i am not depressed. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I am unfit for most upcoming life events. I live for the romance but not for the substance. I am built for ephemerals, not for corporeal matters. There is absolutely nothing for me other than to pay taxes and die. I don’t want to pay taxes and I don’t think I mind dying. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. Every time I glance my mind lags a little because I am not one to believe in perfection. Yet the evidence is irrefutable. If my eyes are a window to truth this is the world I want to reside in. To that end, I also really like being around. I don’t know what exactly compels me. I don’t know if I am being vulgar. I don’t know if I am alive. If I should. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. EVERyTHING IS BAD ND NO-GOOD NO-GOOD AL JOAD I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. the system has failed me a long time ago. all these new depressions are nothing more than personal strifes with myself. i can’t even get out of bed to make my own effigy to burn. i have no bridges to jump from. i have no rope to tie. i have no flaming circle of truths. just permanent lukewarm limbo to trudge through drudgeries of. my personal fable. my entitled opinion. one day i will be subjected to poverty and then i will perish. something nuclear that would stop all pain. something final. something numbing and relaxing and easy and reminds me of fever bubble baths from all those years ago. from the ipad time i get to have as a kid and from the rush of dopamine of being complimented by your parents. what am i trying to live for? i keep talking to you. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. I go where I’m led. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit quit quit it.
The Xenon Arc Lamp Hums Lowly As It Illuminates The Echo Chamber Which You Reside In
“The skyscrapers and the trees hold hands in combatting the land.”
“I cheated life by walking in doors without a scent. This is a revolutionary protest to the inhumane world. Truman wasted his shot, so now he’s taking the spot.”
“I’ve worked hard for nought. Ricochet, ricochet, ricocheting you. Ricochet, ricochet, ricochet what’s true. Ricochet, ricochet, ricochet eschew. Ricochet, ricochet, ricochet,”
“Adieu! A story told in the woods, stranded mythologies and insincere functionality. I can't make nerve-inducing drawings that poke my brain and relieve the pain.”
“At the Central Park Station, won’t you join me for a ride? Our time is short and sweet, and by that we must abide. Won’t you hum me a tune? The sounds of human tragedy all rang like ancient runes. What fiscal deterioration and blown-out decorations. In Treppenwitz/Weltschmerz we trust. The great emigration of Eclectic Sheep was truly extraordinary. These intricate machinery and napery, truly extraordinary. Yes, I would like to have some Japanese joinery.”
“What the hell does a Molotov cocktail symbolize, anyway? En plein air, your vapid platitudes and your rabid attitudes and your flaccid servitude. A placid multitude. After the credits, after the music, there’s still a little man dancing up on the roof. He won’t stop tapping, he won’t stop crying. Though the curtains fell, he lived his own hell. Fade to blacks doesn't mean closure exists.”
“What is more likely, lingchi? Scoundrels, hight Mr. Right. High roading, hightailing, high testing me. Falling down highrises, am I a funambulist? More so a populist.”
“I am the magma from Tomboro, I’m a crooked cop’s K9, I am the Christmas truce’s mañana, I’m your parking ticket’s fine. I am the shadows ingrained in Hiroshima’s future. The sons and daughters of stolen culture. I am a recession of your worst possible nightmare. That still small voice going on…Rambling about 1912.”
“Carpooling junctions, lacking basic functions, caressing the stolen mile. In any case, you know where your father hides the gun. And anyways you still know what needs to be done.”
“Fade in, fade out. That’s still your voice somehow. Bounced around the walls and it echoes in the halls. Fade in, fade out. I hope you can see there won’t be a take twenty seven. You can catch me toking in the parking lot or rotting in the 7-11, 24/7.”
“Fade in, fade out. Your Nudist Mentality Had Forbid Any Chance of Human Contact I Lost The Innermost Matryoshka Doll And Now I’m Starting To Get Comfortable In My Lim(b)o.”
“We’ve had nothing but feuds, please don’t elude and face the collude. I just don’t wanna be tattooed and misconstrued. So glued up and skewed.”
“You have no say in this world. It’s a fascinating word: control. To nullify my senses, it’s just another way to lull. Jumping from one fence into another, but both floors all contain a shocker. We’re all just Seligman’s dogs, so why bother? I showed it to some children; they laughed with conviction, for it’s just a blank paper with my own volition.”
“Strip it, maim it, ice it down. Let the carcasses pile en masse! May one night your parents decide, you’re ripe for your coup de grâce!”
“And one year ago, I dispatched my current location. The army came to find me under a bridge post-circumlocution. Oh, what joy it is, to grasp the role of calamity? Things fall apart, and nothing stays forever.”
“I found out you knew nothing about me after I sent you my autobiography. You read through every sentence but your mind isn’t present, and now I’ve got nothing for you to see. I’m Running Out Of Things To Do On Fridays. At the end of the day they all scattered away. I no longer remember anything or anyone, if that mattered. The shapes and fingers all melt away, my chords in their peaceful graves. Still longing and pining for the ordinary, a perfect time machine that’s only fragmentary. They are shrieking - quite unnecessary. Always so keen to be a visionary. There was a tangerine. Hair full of christmas green. He tried his luck on a slot machine and won a clementine. Monkey Grills; Monkey Thrills. Stainless steel pan and a halved crosswise man. The locust, eternally internal, instructed by you to eat away your soul. The locust, so full and grateful, wishes that it'll never have control.”
“Fulfill your wills. Don't forget: pills kill. Rilling in trills, a shrilling nil, we're all just runs of the mill.”
“Tasty licks mixed wits picks bitches ticked jinx stitches.”
“Fulfill your folly. Don't forget: polls closed. Rolling in trolls, a showing for null, we're all just mulling over goals.”
“Antiques and Antipsychotics: You stalling, my darling? We could get together for some falling. Oh, wait, I see you yawning. Oh well, the boss' calling. Telling me he’s using the Piranha Solution.”
I am only ever lucky when god is not looking.
“I’m a fake teen, operating on four hours of sleep and pretending to be 19. Asking Me If Bleeding Is A Smokescreen (Asked).”
“I Know That You Talk In Your Sleep (You Are Unaware). Italian Songbird Killing Spree because I know the arrow would not miss. It’s simple to believe you can fire a gun on a man. Though few will understand, how to treat that wound beforehand.”
“Far Skies: a far-fetched Daydream from Reality but nonetheless comforting. Vile Contrarians & Their Tendency To — Stop! (please? no). Laden With Euphoria... this is The Finale of FM-2030 (EMCON).”
“The lack of enzymes is filling up end times. You’re just as scared as I am. The lack of enzymes means avoiding landmines. You’re just as scared as I am. I like your toothy smiles. The brutality of the lack of closure for both the lilac bushes and its chaser.”
“God…god is merciful, the mortal cloth, the holy land, we are moved by his every wave, and it strikes awe and a primal fear into our hearts, mirrors shattered, birds rise like brume, his clarion chariot brandishes through, and yet you wonder if the madding ingrate betokened a star-crossed fate…the fervid firmament does not show its hospitality to the nescient sinners, it will render their degenrancy and rend their chastless bodies…pray tell, what tidings you could’ve bring, if you tarried for a century? The finger wagging is patronising, it pierces the flesh, the bones, the marrow, the nerves, the heart, and the soul…you are unloved by HIM…The plangent livestock fleers, He weeps, He weeps in all his dolour. He weeps because you don’t understand.”
“But,” you denied, “I am happy just to be here.”
“Well,” I replied, “Then I’ll teach you how to fear. And be so typical, so miserable in minimal livable states of a pitiful existence, divisible in different rates, I see a mate with formidable weights, the fate awaits a risible inmate. But all the rundown sunsets, unwarranted showdowns of a persona you chose to stubbornly bet on, like an ocean filled with lotion despite its slippery nature. That’s not to blame (for the drowned victims who can’t see the shore), yet we’re all so sure of the person with scars on their face facing the past. Now I may be the comic relief, but bitch, your subtitles all end in a dash.”
“Is it possible for a man to drown in a luxury restaurant, if he is so devoid of social awareness, so afraid of help in all his desperate flailing that’s invisible to the naked eye, when can he self-repress until it is unbearable, until it’s too late for even the paramedics sitting beside him? Who will buffalo the buffalos?”
A slow-mo photo in the skid row. T-stoff standoff iceslicing is a durapolistic ganosis. “Just because you think you’re a saint for having restraint doesn’t mean I’m a sinner for stealing your filtered water.”
“No matter how you slice it, it’s still the same birthday cake. There are still all these candles that you will have to know.”
“I won’t flinch from the hail. It’s actually quite nice, the icy blades. They target every last one of my spots.”
“Spotty thoughts come and go. Woe is me for lashing out! You’d make a blanket fortress; I’ll make mine with real clouds, no-entry glyphs.”
“To prove that God is dead, I killed it in my head. To prove my many regrets, I take back the life I had led. To say the had-been, had had its course? It would be no different than being the old, gross, beaten, dead horse.”
“Even so, the Sun felt cold.”
Spread out the hurt in your
meadows; stop, drop, and roll.
tears thud as they land
I, sand Man.
Must we subject ourselves to this phantom mutilation? Are we destined to climb the rungs of our forefathers? Shall we mitigate the same gruel, siphon out the photons, dig our thumbnails into the eyesores of tragic life, welcome terror? The loafers nowadays trample over long-forgotten cottonmouth laws. We will camp and stamp and vamp but never with tramps. What insolent bigots we are, glee with our insulants, of material clutter, of bodily enhancements, of curated nootropics, of denial. We, I keep insisting. What we? We are utterly alone. A drinking game all-too-familiar. Barely worth the trouble of bypassing it. There’s no way to convince you there are simply too many people out and about. Go outside. See for yourself. What kind of hamster enclosure have we designed? What kind of racetrack, what kind of parlays, what kind of trophy? Why should I situ ate myself with the good and normal citizen, wh en camaraderie is so easily and obviously found wit hin the homeless, the cri ppled, the des pondent, the in v isible? Should I continue to den y and reject thes e peo ple, hum bly li ving amon gst thos e who put their right hand forward, left hand forward, living erratically, li ving surreptitiously, attempting to live? The ditzy blondes and unhoused crackheads. Why should I identify with those able to afford a walk to the market, with the environmentalist on the side, with the dismissive sort, people who button up quickly always a shiny buckle and newly minted money in their pockets, shoeshine smiles and occupational hazards and union lunches, walking from point A to B and never double triple checking the route which to get from A to B never A to C A to D to E to F to G never the case. Aberrations in the air. I emphasize more with working mothers. Downtrodden salary men. Still I wouldn't be surprised if some supercomputer running ancient algorithms, smarter than I can fathom, deem me as a womanizer. I would not surprised to learn I have the rapist phenotype. Some song path invariably nudging me towards fated liberation. When is the last time you screamed senselessly? When's the last time we all did? Dancing wildly around a pile of charred skin? What would I say if the supercomputer decided I'm whiter than flesh?
Now the very sight of children leaves me with malaise. I live with landlords happily airing out their dirty laundry a wall apart. The door slams, reverberating the oft ill-lit hallways, the desperate wails of the housewife, the prideful husband with a 30 year track record at a well-established grocery chain, the dissatisfied wife which does backgrounds and set designs on television commercials, the careless screaming into my open back headphones. It seems my parents follow me wherever I go. These demonic imprints haunt my every move. What a shoddy remake of that apartment drama a decade prior, of unlovable children and blameless parents, entire nights painted with guts and shouting matches. These spirits careen and dash with normal anticipation. They have a clean house and a cleaner conscience. They commit to comets. They submit themselves to census measures. They fill in tax brackets. They stand around sidewalks and play the part. They all walk in one place. They have limbs! What special deals! Not too long before you tell me about basic human empathy and synthesized cause and effects! That I will live my eternity in plastic! That the books will scorch my skull linings and collapse my lungs and melt my skin and file my nails and penetrate my ribcage and gouge my eyeballs and sever my neurons and incinerate my pharynx and implode my appendix and mutilate my jhkgand curbstomp my jaw and split my face open and slice my wrist and teach me a lesson! You have people lined up blocks and blocks to tell me this is fatal behavior! This is spinal! This is Kantian! This is teleologically tautological! I am going to grab you by your neck and suffocate you in wet concrete. I am going to dismember you slowly. I am going to use a blunt crowbar to pry your intestines out. I am going to use you as a doorstop. I am going to choke you out with your own lanyard. I am going to book you the presidential suite. I am going to make it make sense. I am going to make you quit your job in Alaska. I am going to cure you of your being. Take a moment to reflect. Reach your fist inside my mouth-hole and press it against my cranium. Scratch the insides. Knock on wood. My cranium made of wood. All made of wood. Spin it around, and around and around, and around and around and around around around around around around. And around around around around around. And around. And around. And around. And around around. And around and around and around around and around and around and around. I am going to make you witness your own becoming-pavement event.
Since I've grown up they started treating my illness with increasingly foreign, unpleasant vocabularies. Stand standing out, meet the gaze of an animal who averts it immediately. I peer into the lives of others, window-shopping. Release the good times, triple-A certificate, broth and toilet paper aisle we trust. I seldom fantasize incontinence. But I do. I know they poison the food I have delivered. It's why I keep ordering them. WILCO. The sort of aimlessness that pervaded the late 20th century is all but gone. Dissipated into the debonair, psychic energies of half-shelves and vegan-friendly turkey stuffings. Shiny people emerge again to get their honey garlic dips and flax seeds and everything dressings. They all have checkboxes involving electric grills and familial thrills. We're all accepted into one posse. We share a singular purpose. The desire to destroy which threatens our way of meaning-making. The points bend to our wills and we wriggle out the rubble anew. No more flavors to invent. No more moons to name. No more neighborhoods to abandon. No more captains to mutiny. No more eardrums to vibrate. Yearning is the new Zen. WILCO. We're the poor deaf children unable to hear our parents’ PA announcement in a century-old shopping mall. So this much constitutes my buying potential. Act now. More rewards. The more variety of tea you have in your cupboards the higher your social ladder. Gluten-free lisp. 100% ethically sourced lab grown meat. GMO-approved microplastics. We are so enriched with purpose. The tiles get mopped daily but remain staticky. The frozen aisle is always populated. There are better ways to foil. Triple the ply. Discounts are nigh. WILCO. A lone ceiling fan working overtime. We are thick with purpose. It overflows from the plumpest of individuals. As seen from their Duck down jackets and bubble coats. Never-ending zorbing. Morphing with caramel and sourdough and various herbs. Yes I would like a box of soda. Yes I would like caffeinated carbonated pasteurized low sodium transfat free flash frozen pure brewed organic extra hydration extra electrolyte extra iron enriched locally sourced trusted by critics free run no artifical flavor or color preservative free straight from my mother's esophagus clean-cut water. In bulk. The whites have all found nirvana in a resealable bag. WILCO. Ever since they put milk in a bag that was the end of history. Plastic udders now part of our arsenal. Marvelous. We'll all have bulletproof vests sponsored by Twitch streamers in a Year or two. They are surely figuring out how to market Cream of Human after all this. Sometimes I talk to mascots on cereal boxes. They tell me they stopped putting toys in the boxes because it’s a choking hazard. I consider the probabilities. They encourage me to watch my cholesterol. I tell them chivalry comes in value packs these days. I tell them family-sized portions are selling at an all-time high. I tell them which spices are gourmet and fit for a pizza pop dinner. I tell them it's the end of the line. It’s the end of history. The end of evil. I don't tell them I don't exactly understand the purpose of calcium in my orange juice. I don't tell them I don't really know if I like garlic parm or not. I don't tell them I stopped caring about the cocoa percentage a long time ago. I don't tell them express lines are obsolete. Most importantly, I don't tell them they're unlovable avatars printed on bland cardboard boxes. Refurbished and vintage. WILCO. Vaporizing sanist identity. Rub my eyes and feel dirty. There’s nothing left to do. Wake up and manage inventory. Wake up and take a smoke break. Wake up and go to the washroom to freshen up. Wake up and take herbal supplements. Wake up and fact check your sources. Wake up to consider pollen-free date ideas. Wake up to navigate through the white Anthropocene. Wake up to mourn the death of cinema. Wake up to freeze blood and semen. Wake up to go to sleep. Wake up to gyrate. Wake up with a Jewish stomach. Wake up with TV teeth. Wake up fucking dead yes you’;re fucking dead no undoing you;’re dead now fuck you fuck you you’re deadWake up to cup your face in your hands for an entire week. Your entire facade within your palms. Like a clam. Polish it into a pearl. WILCO. Don’t get impatient now. There’s nothing to like. There’s no one to meet. There’s nothing. Nothing. All nothing. Just nothing. Nothing consuming nothing. In nothing there’s nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all.
And yet everything is so stationary! It fails to wither. It fails to witness. It fails to surrender. It fails to become. It fails to fail. It fails to work itself out. It fails to complete. It fails to continue. It fails to start. It fails to register. It fails to escape. It fails to spiral. It fails to land. It fails to come through. The horizon itches. The screen shudders. The nave questions. Your delirium governs. Yadda diggity fuck wat twang bang gang sang loc loc L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C L O C. Say it out loud L O C. EL OH SEE EL OH SEE EL OH SEE EL OH SEE EL OH SEE EL OH SEE EL OH SEE. LIMITED LIMITED LIMITED LIMITED LIMIT DELIMIT Delimit the congressional the proprietary nominational multivariate HVAC system total downer failure to comply payment postdated GIANT WATER GLASS PIGFUCK KNIFE FOUND ON GOOGLE MAPS REAL 2025 TESTED TRUE PUNJABI METHOD yES THEY STAND IN THE CORNER. YES THE MEN STAND IN THE CORNER. YES THE SNOW WHITES STAND IN THE CORNER. YES THEY STAND ON TOP OF EACH OTHER. YES THEY ALL STAND IN THE CORNER. YES THEY ARE ALL LIMP AND FUCK SHEEPS. WITH MOTHERFUCKING STEEZE. YES THEY ARE COMPLEX. YES THEY ARE STORIED. YES THEY WILL BE CARVED OPEN. YES THEY ARE A MARVEL OF SCIENTIFIC PROGRESS. YES THEY ARE KEYBOARD STROKES. YES THEY GET EACH OTHER OFF. YES THEY EXPERIENCE PAIN. YES THEY HUDDLE TO AVOID PAIN. YES WE FIGURED OUT A METHOD TO ADMINISTER PAIN. PURE UNADULTERATED PAIN. LIQUID PAIN. BROILED PAIN. STIR-FRY PAIN. PAN-CRUSTED PAIN. PAIN IN THE OCKY WAY. SUMMERTIME BREEZE PAIN. BACON GREASE PAIN. ROCKING PAIN. POP ROCKING PAIN. ROCK CANDY PAIN. COTTON CANDY PAIN. SUNNY-SIDE PAIN. ALWAYS SUNNY PAIN. ALWAYS BRIGHT PAIN. ALWAYS LIT PAIN. ALWAYS BLINDING PAIN. ALWAYS ILLUMINATION PAIN. ALWAYS PHOTOGENIC PAIN. ALWAYS ALWAYS PAIN. READY-MADE PAIN. FAILSAFE PAIN. TENFOLD PAIN. KET PAIN. MET DET PAIN. SET PAIN. THEN PAIN. THE BEFORE PAIN. THE AFTER PAIN. PAIN. and so it is the space pod and the whatever source outside lights up the interior and it is soft and floating and it carries me forth and my existence is in this pod and i cannot have an exit i cannot have anything else but we will adrift in space we will admonish we will prehend we will jitter and the poor is here and the poor is there and rush and rush and all of a sudden right in front and behind and surrounding up and down left and right forward backward underneath inside inside all inside scheming little shits get a break emergency break head south head south head south head south head south head south go home no home only pod pod in space always always pod in space head south in space head south in pod in space palm trees palm spaces what do you fucking mean the scraggy isthmus is D E A D ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
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– no name, merely observes, unreliableone of my fav words is hijack-kids are moving targets-so far so *splat*-non-toxic: if you hear a small hiss the vessel is just relieving pressure-this contains a disease which has no cure-life-equipped-prodromal binaural beats psychosis regression (visit yr future schizoself)-I, Vomit-hey siri how do i publish a book
IS ON PILLS
Paulo IS ON PILLS
Devland IS ON PILLS
the cool dude, IS ON PILLS
A Child IS ON PILLS
BUNGLE IS ON PILLS
FLYNN IS ON PILLS
Schlomo is on pil;ls
77777777 \], i son pilsl
JudithIS ON PILSDE
dearth - death
ION PILLS
???/a?FAi conjure what is graceful to all in scenery unbeknownst to man, spoken like a true crazer, upon community soapboxes and bulletin boards, the cork rough and ungoverned by the marble furnishings that is this hotel lobby. rock pillars of salt. 12 hour transit. always in motion, always in denial of what had happend mere seconds ago. who couldve known that this is, in fact, the end. the end of the end. the beginning of bullshit and the mother of all ends. sign my book, take a photo, slam that, there will be noise. dunk your words and drown them, a newborn’s first thought how do i say goodbye? xxxxx the xxxxx and i can celebrate 0000000000x xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx gfod fuckjing damn it|hahaha and \c=uy curtains
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zzxjoanw
The most amount of literature I’ve written was song lyrics. The second, febrile suicide notes.
(Mostly) written during a fever.
"No matter how corrupt, greedy, and heartless our government, our corporations, our media, and our religious and charitable institutions may become, the music will still be wonderful"