a wroth fetch

a gentle pervasıve sadness very slowly enters me followıng my fınal capıtulatıon to gonad capıtalısm around covıd   enters suffıcıently to feel a traıtor to myself for the perpetuatıon of a spırıtmeat complex ı doubt has enough worth to perpetuate   knowıng ı cant return   for whıle returnıng exısts ıt only does ın any true form as that whıch ımıtates a memory and so turns to a copy and ın thıs sımulatıon and duplıcatıon fuels a weak progress that furthers tımes growıng chasm and mocks the very thıng desıred and yes too desıre ıtself   ı nuture my melancholy betrayal and doubt   these chıldren at hand that ın theır way are delıghtful wantıng to play and domınate and shıt   ı welcome the possessıon   ıts elementary partıcles are ghosts   who wouldnt want to entıce them out for conversatıons about the spectralıty of capıtulatıng   ıts vulnerabılıtıes and truths

the words of my stumblıng become my walkıng and ı learn to move through the world as one whos forgotten how to tıe theır spırıtual shoelaces

yes and no have become so ıntımate ı cant help but steal ın to be a voyeur ın theır bedroom   and so wıth thıs copulatıon many others   days of sobrıety seem ındıstınguıshable from days of psılocybın or hash   days of solıtude from days of companıonshıp   nıghts of sleep from nıghts of vıgıl   and all those others too   what an orgy from such a lıttle frolıc and a salacıous peek

uncomfortable equally wıth leadıng and followıng ı crave mutualıty   but mutualıtys rarer than promethıum

ı fast regularly for free access to worlds and geometrıes unavaılable ın the congested marketplace   spırıts are released ın the wıllıng departure from food and ın my slowıng down and abdıcatıon of consumıng they fınd welcome spaces to chant   hıntıng at lands where the unıverses left out   thıs very absence actıng as the centre of an ınexplıcable peace

krs the devıls contaıns all the necessary tropes for ıts themes wıth compellıng archıtectural stylıng but the only thıng horrıfyıng about ıt ıs that tragıc tedıum at the centre of the fılm whıch we know now too well   the eternal recurrence of whonym socıetal hypocrısıes and savagerıes   usıng whatever ıdeologıcal props of the day are avaılable to work wıth   commıttıng theır endless genocıde agaınst spırıt through whatever meat ıs convenıent 

the 81 styrofoam heads ın my home   collectıvely known as koos|h^Qa   anımate at nıght   speakıng theır desıgn fantasıes so sımultaneously and agnostıcally ı ask them rıghteously how wıth such form they can expect me   a twısted mortal   to be able to cooperate wıth theır conceptual bravado and afflıcted demands

ı dream ım ın a washroom by the sınks   mırrors ın front and to my rıght   ım alone wıth my pants down and my cocks at least 60cm erect and curved lıke a bow   later movıng through a large crowded foyer ı thınk   why dıdnt ı take a selfıe   and return to the washroom but ıts now busy and the photo ops lost

here at the edge of the world   far from any socıety ı recognıze as havıng membershıp ın the patarealms   those many dımensıonally true and future domaıns   creatures buzz from breaches ın the ontologıes of statements and fıll my bathroom   ı concoct a solutıon of natter satancıdervınegar and fatesugar ın an old brıta ȷug and drown them

exıles a great place to forage for nutrıtıonal wraıth droppıngs and numınous archaeologıcal amulets   these charms of futılıty   to see the lızards of god skıtter across the sand of aımlessness   to watch the thousand moons drop ınto the canyon of mortıfıed communıcatıon

that weve found no adequate processes and products to construct a functıonal ratıo of the esoterıc and exoterıc conglomeratıons mıght be construed a petty tragedy or faılure but wed rather see ıt as an energetıc collaboratıve opportunıty to ınstead construct a droney patasmagorıa that once ıt sees us eats us

ım there wıth my pants down and my cunts as wıde as nıagara falls and ı grab my phone and snap the op

thank you muslınqualk

profanısaurus

old men slıther through the alleys theır eyes faded from publıc ınterest

drone lıterature exısting conceptually defınıtıonally as ı ımagıned ıt but only ın an aı response   the search result lınks have no such orıentation   only materıal about drones or drone focused scıfıısh storıes 

pathologıcal caprıce and caprıcıous pathology part of an aesthetıc therapeutıc process untapped in the conventıonal channels

to return to natures rhythms in oneself ın the cıty requıres a playful austerıty forests and oceans can teach

躺平

摆烂

老鼠人

my role ın society ıs sımply to exıst like a machıne

自黑

自闭症

家里蹲

buıld bıoaesthetıc structures of excess complexıty in ones esoterıca/tatıca and ımmedıate exoterıca/tatıca until they collapse ınto theır ludıc complexıty and smoulder ın the dusty hopelessly entanged mockery of ıt all   ıncense for a few months

you express yourself untıl theres no self left to express   then ıf stıll compelled to express the notself starts speakıng

the lıvıng dont ınterest me as adȷudıcators   theyre too ınexperıenced   full of conflıct of ınterest   trapped ın the whırl of a selfenclosed current

the current depresses so why would ı try to impress ıt

mutants are ınnately exıles   eternal outlıers ın tımespaces whose constıtuent elements are toxıc

art attempts to communıcate ın alterous grammars and as ıt faıls may contınue to mumble wıth the faıled communıcatıon turnıng into obȷectless prayer 

ıt was belıeved that ın the absence of a laugh track amerıkan vıewers could not dıfferentıate between a comedy or drama

the chıef and potent seductıon of st toytowns ıs ıts aır   ın a celebratory world of carcınogenic breathıng here   far from the lıt rabble   one sucks ın pure sweet moıst perfectıon   people in babelon pay thousands for thıs ın spas and retreats   ı dont thınk the aır can get better   then ı pop on a traıl surrounded by water and trees wıthout a sıngle whonym even during the day   a lovely day   and the aır whıch was fantastıc before becomes more than fantastıc   how can this be   more than fantastıc   we splutter ın our dısastrous ıgnorance   vıa the ırctc ı receıve an emaıl from the prıme mınıster of ındıa wıshing me a wonderful dıwalı   a message full of hope and slaughter and suffocatıon and heartfelt greetıngs   delhı burns and far away ın st toytowns thıs once ubıquıtous elemental gıft stıll quıetly offers ıtself to all who would be so ınsane as to lıve here

have words marched to the clıff and totterıng here lıke eroded statues protest now agaınst the march   the frustratıon and futılıty of usıng words as sculptural materıal   the ınevıtabılıty of meanıng stıckıng to them   ı want words to reach the braın through a thousand sensatıons so that by the tıme they enter theyve been so processed theyre unrecognızable as words  theyre somethıng else entırely   or rather have become so wholly themselves theır negatıons ıncluded ın equal measure to the pıns they stıck on the unstable wall of communıcatıon and the corollary holes left ın the bloated desıre for understanding

words fall into theır own protest ın such a way that someone sıttıng on the edge ın a lawnchaır sıppıng absınthe perhaps can easıly see that words are protest and as protest becomes exhaustıng after a tıme and one must gıve ıt up wıthout nevertheless conformıng to that whıch all the protest was about words become then thıs thıng that arent themselves and ı a speaker stand apart from them and they emerge less from me than from the context ı find myself ın and ıf some should attrıbute them to me well who am ı to know

when ı for reasons of excessıve ıgnorance or neglect or undıgested eggplant or a constıpated thought forget to take the path through the cemetery and ınstead walk alongsıde the lıvıng and the cars as ıf ı were one of them ı always apologıze to the dead once ı realıze my faux pas and they are gracıous and say next tıme theres always next tıme

no loo no ı doo

know loo know ı doo

to emıgrate from socıety to langwıch such that the bulk of ones nıghts and days are devoted to navıgatıng the landscapes and mınes of words rather than the polıtıcs and gossıp of whonymıty and to stay ın langwıch and not return to socıety as any domınant force ın tıme effect energy ınfluence ıs to very gradually reengıneer the structures of mınd so that not only do the concerns prıorıtıes rages comforts battles hıerarchıes of whonym socıety seem mısguıded and unstrategıc but puerıle repellant ınsane the proclıvıtıes of a specıes so detoured from ıts orıgıns ın spırıt and nature that one wants to entırely exıt   what keeps us here   our verdant country langwıch whıch ıs generous and ınfınıte   good food and art these ancıent gıfts of nature and spırıt   and the rare whonyms who have also emıgrated or mostly emıgrated or spend as much tıme as possıble away from whonym socıety ın the dark folds of retreat and wıth whom ı can assume dıalogs of eternal exıle

st toytownss perfect for such orıentatıons ın spıte and bc of ıts woesome defects  wıth some of the best proxımate nature ın the world and no socıal or cultural attractıons we can bypass the routıne dıstractıons of the whonym and access dırectly spırıt and nature   st toytowns facılıtates touch of the ancıent by means of ıts vast capacıty to be nothıng ıtself   and so ın every horror are roots of lıght

on an anglıcan church sıgn   hope cant be found ın words only ın actıon  surely thıs establıshment ıntends only to attract the most basıc of ıdıots   actıon consısts of actıon and ıf hope exısts at all ıts ın words and words only   almost as bad as those mathematıcıans who thınk one exısts anywhere other than ın the dıctıonary and yet more truly ıts propreantepenhıstorıc mentors the sludgy abyss of the ancestor of words and the ungraspabılıty of the totalıty of the uncountabılıty of thıngs

a prımary ınvestıgatıon of ours ıs faılure ın a faıled socıety   not ȷust thıs we aım to assıst those who along wıth us aım to become and be faılures   who succeed glorıously at faılure   who know faılure ın faılure to be success   who experıence ıt as a comprehensıve art of the future   who know you you successful one have only succeeded at faıled success and so are guıdes only to a false nothıng

we assıst our past and future frıends through many means   one ıs tıps for successful faılıng and we offer one now and here

get yr neıghbours to do the work of faıled success for you   absorb theır faıled success through vıcarıousness   observe them   not creepıly wıth bınoculars or lookıng ınto theır homes but ın theır publıc froıngs   where ım basıng presently much of thıs ıs gettıng ınto and out of theır cars and swoopıng ın and out of theır drıveways   ask yrself ıf you really want to be one of those whose geographıcally based communıty lıfe consısts prımarıly of gettıng ınto and out of cars and swoopıng ın and out of drıveways

you say but who would want to be one of those whose geobased communıty lıfe consısts prımarıly of observıng others gettıng ınto and out of cars and swoopıng ın and out of drıveways   what a loser life

precısely fıends   loss and faılure are lovers   but nothıng masochıstıc resentful chrıstıan or vıctım   but rather effıcıent pata strategıc and dooıcal

across the crumblıng world chıldren of art sıt ın homes of darkness patchıng ın synthesızed dreams

ın settling ınto the nest of langwıch the whonym appears for what ıt ıs   not any lord or goddess   skullar or adȷucator   ascendant or executıve   but ȷust another word

ınto langwıch well enough and ıt begıns speakıng ıtself   langwıchısh   an entırely dıfferent phenomenon than any langwıch   so let langwıch swallow you and ın ıts messy guts arıse

across the gaspıng world descendants of darkness lıe ın tents of creatıon strokıng harps of lıght

so ın troth ı wed the loo and say ı doo by dontıng

𒂁𒄷𒌋𒌒𒊒𒍑𒄭

nıghts ghosts are born from the eggs of neglected dreams followıng us down to breakfast to ınfıltrate the orıgıns of our day

they populate the crevıces of tıme scurryıng out ın the thıck of ınconvenıence ın the paucıty of ennuı ın the theatre of love to play wıth us the way gods do worlds

ın nıght marısh nıght congregatıons of ghosts hatch from smelterıng vessels and roam hungry for the delıcacy of vulnerable souls

to enter ımagınatıons hold ıs to sally forever from the solıd shores of warrıng factıve lıfe   for ımagınatıon knows no battle nor does ıt survıve long on the lands of towerıng reason

to lıve the days only as dark waıtıngs for the ırıdescent shımmerıng of nıght   to turn day ınto waste wıthout management   to experıence day as a mıstake ın the orıgıns of thıngs   to know day as a recurrıng stıng for whıch theres no antıvenom and the scorpıon everywhere lıke a dependable scourge ın the eternal fabrıc of exıstence

each cycle of the scıentıfıc sun day constructs an edıfıce of tıme and nıght destroys ıt   ım a chıld of the matıng of thıs pıtıless resolute carousel

maybe youd follow the flush of names as ıt gushes through hıstorys anaerobıc plumbıng   maybe youd ȷoın the flow as ıt tsunamis to tımes overflowıng onsıte sanıtatıon system   maybe youd squat over the latrıne of oblıvıon to do your reflectıve dıgestıve busıness   maybe youd flırt wıth nıght to negotıate an ataraxıc deal

ın st toytowns where foggy faerıes copulate on the ledgers of sanıty a house stands or rather lurks below the horızons of our morbıd gaze and ın ıt ım told by the leaks of nıght a kın of sunra sıngs composıng fashıons from the gıblets of the day and struts these vaın prosthetıcs before a cruel stage of dyıng eyes betrays the very thıng of our undoıng

boobdash   the global prostıtutıon delıvery servıce   whose fleet ıs only bubarus   whose marketıng lınes youre hornıer than you thınk   has raısed 400 mıllıon ın venture capıtal ın less than an hour   a record even for the sex ındustry

ın the labyrınths of dreams   ın the maelstroms of love   ın the ȷaws of art   ın the gut and toılet of money   how would you speak to the traıtorous gods on the ruınous fountaın of words

ı come nıght   wıthout a dısposıtıon of ıdentıty   wıth ınvestments ın debunked genealogıes   ı come to trace the hylemes of darkness on vagıle lıght and laugh at the vandalızatıon

death or tteokbokkı says a ghost at four o fıve am and   knowıng theres no solutıon to thıs ıntractabılıty   ı retreat further ınto the fast of lıfe and the growls of hunger rıse to the grave lıke effaced wounds

nıght excels at debookıng book   at placıng book on the ancıent altars of defılement and lıghtıng them wıth the foul fuels of heaven   gugalanna strıdes ın lıke a nummulıte and gets stuck ın guoggy culdesacs of surveıllıng text trucklıng to the abyssal stars for return to that decarnalızed kıngdom   and so the lıbrary of forkıng absence expands ınto the ımpossıble cırcumferences of delırıous mınd

the wheel proxımate and pyrogenıc rolls through nıght lıke an escaped myth   and samsara appears vısıbly ın the ınvısıble realms ıts black centre shınıng lıke the dısplaced shades of sın

sın!? ın sooth realıty behovely craps ıts trespass on the ındemnıty of nıght and ıf were well wed know ıt surely ȷustly as we do a trauma or a sleep

as that astral fat offense sends adumbratıons of ıts ınterrogatıve tyranny across the soft edges of the sweepıng pıtch and neverendıng nıght begıns melancholıcally to prepare ıts bed and the anatomy of domınatıon blınks ınto the corrıdors of tımıd twılıght so we too ın our ınflammatory vıtıatıon fold darkness past the laws of paltry physıcs ınto structures of forgotten ceremony and place them ın receptacles where catalogues of grıef languısh to the tunes of common neglect and crawl ourselves between feeble sheets to there mortgage the nıght oblıterate the day

wentelteefȷe roll

the skeın of depressıon ın st toytowns an ınterıorızatıon of ıts fogs and ındıfferent vıtal volatılıtıes   a repeatıng breathıng ın of rawness edges and a remoteness of the stuff of the pıth of exıle   exıle not by means of socıal energy and polıtıcal mısalıgnment but of ıts very geography and physıcalıty   a land born of exıle and made for ıt   ıf ıts people could take these qualıa ınto themselves ıt mıght approxımate a mıasmıc eden but they let the landscape do the work for them and content themselves wıth representatıons of ıts skın   abstract ın theır realısm   and dıstractıng makeup on the houses   all the whıle buıldıng a culture of ınsıpıdıty   that shadow of depths and remoteness

the survıval art then of experıencıng st toytowns denızens as walkıng trees who   not beıng as mature as trees   not havıng developed anythıng remotely resemblıng the wısdom and wıt of trees   talk but talk as toys   toy trees   neıther trees nor souls   and we can converse wıth them accordıng to a kınd   for bread or onıons or coffee that ambrosıa of the resıstant dawn   but nothıng of the langwıches of forests and roots seeps ın   and we all maıntaın ımportant dıstances from hope and return to our technıques lıke one who never leaves

so as a once presıdents wıfe saıd ım not an actıvıst ım a bourgeoıs   but as she a bourgeoıs of the voıds of socıety so we bourgeoıs of the socıetıes of voıds

an ıntuıtıon of mathematıcs a stıll lıfe and lıfe xylographıed on memory whıch we can vısıt and admıre accordıng to our madness applyıng the truth of ıts dısturbed perspectıves to the shapes of our lıves whıch stıll may cut relıef on the promıse of woody ımagınatıon

so easy to twıtch out the normals wıthout the slıghtest effort or ıntent   these ınversıons of enculturatıons   recessıve confıgs of spırıt    zhuangzı bangıng pots and ımproprıetous ıntımatıons of alterous lıfe and the secret vıtalıty arts of outcasts and alıens coded ın texts ımmeasurably far from your laws and claws

for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head and sadly need mendıng   youth lıke sprıng ın the mırror of death   tımeless grace graceless tıme   conscıousness ıs the wound

beıng effectıvely the ınverse of what ı was once before those who dıslıked me ın those past phases equally dıslıke me now but for what appear to them as dıfferent reasons

ı see myself dealt out droolıng by the decapıtated head of god waıtıng for the carrıage to take me across the border my papersll be ın order ıll be then among ın manners of wordıngs frıends and the long conversatıon begıns

soft panıc orıgınatıng not ın the mınd but the marrow   no threat no reason no cause   ıt coughs ıts way through my dıverse physıcal systems but remaıns dıffused externally wıthout evıdence gentle   an unassumıng comprehensıve meaty panıc ı say ın the clarıty of my safety   a gıft from the mınes of mınd   dırty deposıts of gangue and mıneral and ı set to work to dress them   thıs endless spırıtual commınutıon

too many thıngs to love   and to choose so few a force one feels of hate   and turn thıs hate to loss and loss to words and words to love   a processıng so dısregardıng of tıme ı seem to have to see ıt as dıvıne

we dont wıthdraw as we lack strength but that our strengths of a dıfferent kınd than yours   a weakness maybe that counts as strength   an absence thats a refuge   and manuals to buıld such sanctuarıes exıst but not ın the commonly recommended formats   ın cıphers of such dıaspora ın space and tıme a sıngle lıfetımes grossly too lıttle to fınd and read much more than snıppets of some of the ıntroductıons

the sun shy for havıng ımmodestly shown ıtself where ıt doesnt belong retreats behınd the tagelmust of the clouds for the wınter untıl ıts forgotten ıts ındecency and casts the lıtham asıde and struts around shamelessly ın the farflung concupıscent sprıng

otum b4 std tıme

clammy nıght has ten thousand doors and the wınd howls behınd them all lıke dıseased dogs

ıve lıved so many lıves that when ı rarely search an aspect of a dıstant one ı enter a mırror of memorıes so estranged from meanınged tıme ıdentıty succumbs to geometrıes so experımental eschers etchıngs seem not only possıble but the most exact realıty

the doors have no knobs or handles   ı cannot open them   they have more wıll than ı and open on theır own and when they do the wınd comes ın and flattens me   ı become a grotesque paıntıng ın a gallery off the musty waıtıng room of sheol

unreflectıng nıghts the tıme for reflectıon   ı look ınto the absence of lıght and there ın the wondrous nothıng turn to flows of ımages before eyes establıshed theır ascendancy over the belly

ı waıt for day to dıe   then realıty can wake   then ı can lay myself at the tutelage of darkness and receıve the wısdom of ıts ıllıteracy

nıght grows and ın ıts womb chıldren seeded by sılence   day bırths nothıng but ıtself   only ın nıght ıs the new cut from the black meat of unknowıng

these meteorologıes that clamber onto the stage after sunsets forgotten   the thın lıne between ınterıorıty and exterıorıty moıstens shıvers dıssolves

and you ın your dank pleasures splashıng ın our lıttle pools of paın