the future

To wrap you around me and keep the stars and the moon in a cloud around my waist. Catch the sunlight in a golden cup and get drunk on druid's hill with six pleasant, erudite beavers. Something about the way the Church glows as the Sun hides, or as I hide, lying and facing in directions that eventually branch and diverge. There are veins that connect me to the stars and they pull me upward, over the heads of stunned spectators and overprotective parents. I can't say which I prefer, the spiraling closure of Gothic arcs or the gaping ruptures following the movements of a restless Earth, the beautiful violence of tectonic plates trying to get comfortable. I think of being filled with sand, of bursting with obscene life, worms and weeds. He is determined to understand me, so he can beat me at my own game. I shuffle the cards apathetically, dealing them with detached eyes, automatic hands. He gets upset when I win twice in a row, and deals with his frustration ironically. I fake bemusement. Eventually he gets up and says he has to leave, and does so. He leaves a trail like a snail, the room feels sick and heavy with his mucus. I have trouble breathing, I feel I am sticking to my chair, I feel that this room is becoming a mirror for my body, and my illness is a decomposing figure leaning against the coat rack, falling apart in unsettling fleshy drips. Bones clatter and roll along the floor. I light a cigarette, and flames rip through the air. A thing is not inevitable until it is part of who you are. The blue screen prompted him for a response. This call was unalarming, it had been domesticated, he could justify himself glibly. “I did it for no reason;” the synthesis of hero and anti-hero is a measure of bad faith, the faithless protagonist is neither hero nor anti-hero because (s)he can not structure a narrative, things must happen to them or they can only speak through the discontinuities of what is expected of them. So, for instance, with the prince who, upon finding the princess, coughs. She awakes from her slumber prematurely, while he is still an approaching shadow. It is human nature to put sunglasses on a fish. With ascending classes of infinity, God presents us with independent realms of aesthetic ecstasy. The imaginary, with the density of the irrational, fills in reality and pulls around us like a blanket. The folds of spacetime are the robes of a naked Adam, smiling innocently as he waves the fabric. Next to him lies a faithful dog, grinning and panting, tail in mouth. Our prophets whisper madness to the future. They have seen the past with burning eyes of madness, they have seen the horror of lives betraying their limits with blood-curdling screams and hot iron. They say the sound of searing skin has no end. Father told me I would have to abandon him to follow Christ. He told me I would have to count all those I knew as nothing. As a young child, this made me feel oddly elated. I pressed down on my eyelids and resumed my flight through the isolated world of androgynous bricks, giving forms the opportunity to present themselves. Ready, as always, to provide an audience. I would love to map the curves of your shoulders, to lift you in the air and swing you around, and lick the corners of your eyes. “Come,” she said, “let's get out of here.” She stepped up, onto the horizon. She became the color of the sky, she was a dancing white outline on the edge of the big open. I yearned to chase her down the labyrinths of her convoluted steps. The harmony of the spheres hung about her neck. She did not belong in my corduroy afterlife; her escape was bittersweet. I played a song to mourn the loss and managed to charm myself. A frenzy of blood and wine does not ensue, rather, the lyrical laughter of the opium den, enamored glances that skip along veils dropping slowly, playfully. The mystery of the feminine becomes the mystery of its disappearance. Finally I get my wish, surrounded by beautiful women, each a self-contained spiritual kingdom, overflowing with the intoxicated tension of modernism. They all love me, and I find them beautiful. Together we craft memories that can not be held. No stories follow our deeds. Time begins to fade, we are becoming a crystal. Suddenly my world is a network of caves, a rippling web, a skeletal edifice mocking transient epochs with slow, deliberate gestures. I fall in love with plants, living entirely on the surface. I try to imitate them and bring everything to the surface, but the guilty lines emerging on my body make delicate souls shudder and turn from me. I feel I am pushing away everything I need. I am pulling dollar bills out of my wallet to bring it all back. The sales man smiles and shakes his head. “You won't find anything like that here.” He points to the sign over the door, and I realize my mistake. I stumble into my shame. I look around for something else to buy, but I am only making the situation worse. And yet, I am not unhappy there.

these words i use

absence, absolute actions
addiction administratively affirms ancient age anew
assigned attack, awaiting, aware
body bored born breathing
calculated
camera capitulating category
choose city: cold commodity
conception confirms conflict
continuity correct
crack crime culture, dance death
dehumanization delivered
dig disrupts distance divine
dreams dripping dry dualism
eagerly echo electrodes
enjoy eradicated estrangement
evil explanations external
film flesh floor
gap girls give glitches glorification
god's good greed, green hand hanging
indifferent indistinguishably
inferior infinites
inflict innumerable intelligences
jolly joy justice kick
knees laugh laws
life liquidation longer lose love
loves magic man mass
mathematically mating meaningless means
mind misses modern moment
moral music
noble normality
nothingness obsolete
paints pan perverted phenomena
play praying precisely
problems processed
quality question raised
rays reach reassembling refuse
remains repetition
sees sex shake shoplifters
shows sleepy social solving sound
spins spiritual splendid stole
stupid subjects
suchness suffering summer sun
synthetic system
tautology tears thought
thoughts torture
trace transforming truth
uncommited underdogs
uneconomic
unite universe
void
walk
war warmth wholly won
work
world
worse writing

xdc jegkl y

xdc jegkl y
legs jet
dr. jekyll
mr. hide
i jk erm
clicks
my ills
rem keg
tell me
legs jet
kill tree
set gem
hide gills
ick sell
sell ink
dream kaggi
ham mam
sleep igi
ream eep
peel pappi
map le seine
pamper marie please
ma real pimp
pale pipe
garment
draped
tapered
on her arm
a link?
still sick
ginni piggu
cant hate
little pug
o sorry
legs jet
me tell
ellipse
my pills
he he
start
run hide
he kill
jet legs
xjk ekcd

oh my

the phrase is sufficiently dizzy
we retreat to comfy caves
a nook with glowing eyes
“are you one of us?”

dance to kill the illusion
of dance
i must move
and jerk
to defy the strings
and give in

my mind broke into pieces
and i sold them at yard sales
to impressionable children
i knew not what i did

they came back, years later
wild looks
they had written books
they had been well received
within circles

i will love my past self
once i am reborn
for a while, at least

not the image, the style
we learned to play with what
the logician tried to save

an author once asked me
“why have you read this?”
to which I said
nothing

he wasn't actually there

i have been with so many chairs
never filled an empty room, though

i want to fuck you
with my impotence

blood covers my hands
because
i just killed a bitch

roll down

three in one,
a god that's cheaper
slightly schizo
but stern
and loving too

I tried to make myself
into a wonderful
person
but found
I had no clay to work with

and my hands were stuck

I will imitate
my former
rebellious gestures
because
they mean nothing
but
I don't know
who I am
without them

McApathy
iTedium

no use climbing mountains
when you can roll down hills
no use climbing mountains
when you can roll down hills
no use climbing mountains
when you can roll down hills
no use climbing mountains
when you can roll down hills
roll down hill
no use climbing
when you can roll down hill
down hill
down, down
down

poop

i love the contours of your mind
where everything glides
tectonic plates dissolving into clumps
slowly weaving tendrils
the porous nausea of it all
your mind, the tissue
sorting dreams from nightmares

speakers speak
retain relations

not as clever as you think
thought refuses to
impress itself

forms ahoy! holey irony
desperate sailors on the desolate shore
of
tick tock
captain hook's glock (cock)
these are my thoughts
GLARBLAAEEEEEEIIIIYESH!!

enlightenment:
the only progress
is
dissolution

poop

this is it

when will i feel the weight of the things i've said?
it's a small room
and the bum in the corner
has pissed himself
once more

i couldn't be here
if i weren't
not here
you see?

i wonder if parallel lines
ever get
antsy

i wonder
if

this is it

can i be
the great liar of my times

to take the prominent words
and twist them
cleverly

i could not be bitter
before your teasing smile
like your teasing light
in the corner of my vision

drawing the curtain, she shudders
a little thought had passed between them
is it too predictable?
she turns
"yeah"

frogger as an allegory for existenz

the System isn't real
that's why it works so well

the accusations never spoken
run deepest

I know of nothing greater
than the all-encompassing I

every attitude is like a
stepping stone on quicksand

hop, friend, hop!

do you get it?

Do you get it?
The joke that has no end
we laugh, a bark
we display our conceits
proudly, they are all we have left
oh do you get it
only the narcissistic babblers
none have it
fucking LSD
do you get it?
I want to show you
you can eat my shit
we can tape it
put it on YouTube
someone might see it
what the fuck is happening?
what the fuck are we doing?
do you get it?
there isn't any solution
without the problem
there is nothing
the problem demands a response
I demand that you
respond
do you get it yet?
are you even trying?
“I don't get it”
“It's ironic”
“Why?”
Uh...

Love

prayer to God

shaking and praying
sending nervous laughter to G-D
hallelujah, buddy
can you make me feel like a twenty?
a crisp bill, arsenic of the Olympians
I hope you're still taking notes
this is where it gets interesting, confession
I've been teasing you with my sins
playfully digging deeper
this is how I get your attention, right Daddy?
Oh Lord,
please allow me to
overcome something
and find
something else
allow me to repeat myself
without being
aware
and
without feeling
silly

I have no voice to speak to You with,
all these words are on loan
I'm not sure when their meaning will
get to You,
and chances are
meaning isn't even mine to give
but
You know I mean something by it
the gesture
it's all we have, you know
I'll make the gesture

I am Sin, this is Sin,
you are Sin, we are Sinning

own your discomfort
the things that make you uncomfortable
are the things
that show you something
about
yourself

not You, oh Lord! Twas merely an aside!
how could I demand anything of You?
but you know...
you did promise me
eternal
somethingness?


i'm not even really sure I want it
what's it like exactly?
please, put it in writing
and
I'll have my lawyer
get back to you

deceptive honesty

oh numinous antinomies
trap me in thy confusion
together we deliver to humanity
the bitter taste of our confession
finally, we are free from belief
free to weep for what this world lacks
free to own our awe, free to lie,
to tell sweet, sugary lies, to sink
into the fantasy of our choosing

who's bitter?

Have you inherited the AdSense?
to click or not to click
to become one with the flow
the pure flow of capital
the schizophrenic movement of nothingness
buy like a Buddhist
open up, open up completely
open up your wallet, and we will rub your belly
play the game, bet your life
if you're clever you can exploit your way up
unfair? don't be a sore loser
if the game were fair it would be pure chance
and the game lets us know who we are
we are the winners

yes the colors are creamy, cool
reality becomes metallic and smooth
we either glide along or encounter it abruptly
a great crunch, the effortless collapsing of spines

check the dashboard, it knows
how fast we're going, how far we've gone

Re: emptiness

Nothing supports us
we cling to the dissipating past
we fall, drift, float
in the void motion is meaningless
(yet the light still flows)

Power wrought by a ghost
delivers sporadic bursts
an imposition to create
doomed to repeat, or doomed
to understand?

No answers in Science
no answers to satisfy
only lies to placate
dig deeper, give yourself to the dirt
blood, broken nails—an answer

Suffering is the beauty of screaming trees
where infinity and nothingness touch
where lovers find themselves in eternity
where Death finds Shame
Suffering has written all the holy names

This is where Heaven and Hell touch
that old married couple
with their wrinkled fingers
and tired countenances
like wine pouring from the wounds
into the wood

Bugs under the floorboards
attain complete transparency
nothing left to see
nothing but sparks as invisible gears grind
feel the heat, see the light
Nothing is behind them

This is our freedom
things move too slowly for insanity
deconstruct, reconstruct
build a palace from the rubble
merzbau, merzbau, merzbau
I am trash, you are trash
We cannot get any lower
Sink into yourself
Into your suppressed possibilities
We will make ourselves a new Garden
of silicon

Systematized Ambiguity

First, invert
common notions--
the commoner eats his dirt
with the hands his shovel
gripped, he smells
nothing
and tastes even less
he is blind to the abstract Notion,
to the God that strips our
pretensions and makes us
nothing,
unveiling our unessential
Essences.

Second, trace
the fleeting feeling,
cling to dispersion
the wind whispers
a dull truth,
re-interpret! isomorphisms
left, a new right.

Third, silence
the suppression of doubt,
the turning about
forgetting forward
make a step, leap
I am falling, I am the Fall,
taller than myself, accelerating,
no reference in dead space,
moving past myself,
no reference,
no preference,
void avoided
ten four.

Dissimulate disappearance
dismiss disparagement
dance self-deprecatingly
don't be alarmed
we've been circling a while now
but didn't you think we'd get closer?
You can almost feel the heat
as it makes its absence known
you can almost feel the pull
of life's wake passing
through clouds of error
from echoic obscurity
to Lucidus.

X goes to 0

If everyone were like me
there would be no more problems
except the ones I have with myself
which might be all of them

If everyone were like me
we would all
put down our guitars
and pens
and lie on the ground
and get up
and walk around

If everyone were like me
we would look at one another
and see this look
that we knew we had
and couldn't escape
and we could feel it on ourselves
trying to tear through the skin

If everyone were like me
life would be death
and the dead
would mourn the living

If everyone were like me
we could still be less
and the boundaries reset
creation in the space of breath

on a plastic ashtray

So he cried out to the unyielding sky
And it had become absolute
Between his unrealized fate
And himself, he could draw no connections
Only convey a tendency
Entropic principle of self
Naturally, he should be disjointed

Exposed parts gleam
Everything stumbles with him
A queue of the forgotten dead
In the rearview mirror, wave
And remind him where he's going
Ahead, the statues loom
And cast disappointed glances

He said it's enough to believe
He said tomorrow will be better
He said I think therefore
I must be right
And when he was alone again
He asked silently
Why me?

radiculitis

adorned shears plastered
through anachronistic nooks
solvent rabble rendered indissoluble
linked to kill, the ineluctable cure

glowing barometers indicate
unctuous aneroids' umbrage
or the 'there' of hydrocyclic theories
a mere means, the merely mortal

number of all seals on
thy tire iron idol implies
to reduce salient uses try
rubber caresses, clay abuses

radiating radiculitis
repealed lips own pearls
twins born in drowning
ink spills limpid

mid-upper paralysis
steel glimpse, sleep's boundaries
to the kind arab sister
redundant, drowsy resistance

germanic origins

a new German night, to the gold crew
the cold of the night, to be still, still
the issues are honored, Belvedere
does not smile, or tell the time-tested
lies, the lion in the jungle, rings
magic circles disarming circus freaks
stripped down to pale yellow musk
a fiendish belly, tundra turned inside out
before you now are small rocks and
sea shells, as you saw she was selling
or had been, as you were, no words, but
swords, daggers, pre-prescribed Romulan rites
an excess of purple cloth, nervous smile
what makes the clicking man tick
enabled consistently through and through
inconsistency, my friendly devil, my only
stain, urge, resisting recollection
through and through, such a lovely shade
for my lovelies, shading the harsher tones
a man must do what a man must do what
we must make of our sins, brick buildings
trite formalism becomes quite the revelation
seeing through unopened eyes, lovely
riding on beats that advertise their no-surprise
the smooth waves, we are in passing, artists
but ah! for too long no more; too open to the tired sea
to produce patterns of sense, sputtering
i am your broken machine, that i am cannot
be expressed, only repressed, pointing wildly
there goes the mighty invisible!
the Germans will hunt him to where
the beginning touches the end
dressed in resplendent gold,
and how they will fall
over the edge
we sing
and
dance
their story
while mother ages
a new wave for her old worries

gottesfreunde (friends of the text)

time does not end inside himself
space makes room for all her friends
together they embrace us all,
they are big; we are small
la, la, la la, la la, la, la, la la
time is not beside himself
space extends her gracious heart
we, their modest children
could not bear to see them part