more words

darkness can only replicate the past
heaves of sighs, cotton cloth grazing skin
and a mixed up fucked up play of dim red light and shadow that makes all crazy possible


then life unfolds with a mind and arms and legs stronger than yours
resistance is futile, they say
but your body shivers, drenched in wet idealism, you run and fight
and you open your soul to air that can rust the stainless
the fragile becomes vulnerable

i passed the test didn’t i?


and we filled the glass with a viscous flavorful music that made the veins of the earth dance so the seas will form the careful syntax of geography and sedimentary rocks will bury themselves with the profane words and thoughts


oh obscenity!
i embrace you and kiss your sweet!



music, the fantastic time machine,
weaves fabrications of oedipus into the lobes of my cerebrum
until i hear nothing but the tale of the king and queen, fool and pauper.
the romantic prophecy resounds tenderly.


and i will peek out the window to find the helmet-shaped moon (or moon-shaped helmet) and the comet a man is riding and it will make so much sense because it is a sign even if i subscribe to simulism and this is just a rewiring of my neurons. but i will go and continue this life in slumber and declare Dex & Mut as a cornerstone of humanity and it will make so much sense.

“mutter in slumber” i muttered in slumber


wallowing in poignancy
sadness is the most tender emotion. the slow, the heavy, the holy and tender. dark and dense. and cold, holy, and tender.
timeless, spaceless, like a deep deep void


all of a sudden everything is obscene but it’s no surprise
this is the non-artificial journey to truth

when joy, sorrow, and fear has committed treason

there can only be comfort in numbers
in a calculation in the measurement
of space and time and a non-heuristic
order of the universe

that is what the months are for
to be counted and archived
the pulse rates body temperature
% decrease in words per day
your ETA my ETD
a change in gait
noted and computed accordingly

metrics as proxies for joy, sorrow, and fear
truth in metrics, solace in truth

i grit my teeth for 4 seconds