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I fully don't believe in revenge, but I feel like me carrying on as normal is enough for people to think I'm into revenge

I mean, no, work on your communication, tell me what you think I'm doing wrong, instead of just expecting me to change my coping strategies because you start deliberately stressing me out

One in

One out

At every ladder's rung

Every palm

And every frond

One in front

And one belonging

To a teir behind the scenes

Not exactly what you thought

When you wanted what you got

Everything was someone's ought

To dream a dream and not get caught

Waking up

On the wrong side of your

Waking up on the ought side of your

Free will and what is accomplishable by energy work

Compared to the religious belief that power can be raised from some eternal source

By moral standing, not requiring energy work, but being of the unmanifest power

Up? No

Roll over

None of your

Up

I'm never looking into your

Drink

Another

I barely took the night apart

Write

Imagine what?

Sleep

Sink into forgotten needs

Breathe until the mask of being

Offers up the choice to dream

Until then just escape the memory

Collapse onto a semi regular trench

It's broken by the crossings you made manifest

in the space between you and the gods

you never knew you believed

In the space

in between

held open

by your being

unsure enough of that

which between

You and God,

you held open

the space open

between

You and me

You held open between

You held open to me

In between

You and me

You held open to me

Ruminating upon disgust

The prohibition of nature and the overflow into perversion

Disagreement over "nature" and what is 'human'

The normative agreement to conceal nature and the disgust at a great many natural unfolding events

Once the concealment is normalised the distinction between the natural and the perverse is blurred.

The lowering of the human and the outlet for every kind of overflow

Are held in myriad ritual forums

But the root natures, constrained by ritual, are elevated

The 'human' identity is transferred onto the ritual, as a machinery above nature, and this machinery is the baptism of what is considered 'human-normalised'

Identity, linked with the tools of nature's 'overcoming' creates the social pressure of normativity which in turn promotes the overflow into perversion, which is preestablished within normativity

That this is then illconsiderably held as nature, and not perversion, inverts the relation to disgust, as identity belongs to the machinery, the machinery removes the element of disgust from the perversion and 'man' - identified as the user of tools - is elevated above the human, above nature, and perceives, with horror, not their own monstrous activity, but only through being 'above nature' their own identity as ~human~

No longer every morning

I won't turn in my bed to the warm

Lost bubbles sweet

Flavour wheet

Not water

True grain

Coffee milk

Granular

Carpet drips stain

Teeth and beard

And lips and I've

Got a dream to hide inside

Before I call on you to face

The opposite of a scavenger

Upcycling

Reality in what hits around

Perceptions unbound

By the ear of the beholder

Feeling memories withholding

Of the sentimental purity you're scolding

All your sympathies to jack

You've got nothing

Nothing

progress has more in common with novelty and openness, than with the power of Truth to negate falsehood

The decimation of culture ought to alleviate the need for war

War over the novel, often rebellious, reversal of values, which is typically the means to progress of thought

The value is not obscured, unless perceived as novelty for the sake of novelty, which is a misnomer to a genuinely open mind.

All progress in thought has been novelty, or a reversal of prior thought, and these movements have been considered heretical or an afront to 'established' values.

The end of culture, the rise of freedom of thought, ought to further liberate new view points, but we aren't there yet.

The desire is for Truth to intervene, but progress is not this intervention, progress has more in common with novelty and openness, than with the power of Truth to negate falsehood.

I still believe in statements that have multiple meanings, whenever those meanings are complimentary to each other.

Even in the knowledge of the 'tradition' of statements made with two deliberately separate meanings, which are intended to produce or work upon the schism inherent in their incongruity.

I realise though, now more than ever, that where there is normativity around a particular interpretation, a statement having more than one meaning acts to create a schism in thought.

But, needless to say, I see this schism as one with the potential to liberate, constructively, away from normativity.

Without simply being an effort to induce schizophrenia or create a normative shift.

The idea of the normative shift ought to be understood in parallel to the idea of conspiracy, whether it appears as a joke about santa claus, or as a single to criminal activity.

Broke my phone

At the red light

On the bus

Social anxiety

No trains

Imma piss myself

Better than being at home

Collecting succubi

I don't wanna catch them all

But there's this one i like

Kill me quicker oh lord

Dying is not my favourite part

But have me live until the next layer of good

Or perhaps my own bleeding through into me

With love

Neither beyond nor unto death

Of you through me

Or me through you

But of me unto some other

By God I truly wished to love

And loved to wish

But wasted my life

All the want

Into desire and sex

With no one at all

The number of people who are a man first and a human being second

The gender supremacy where "human being" is always secondary to gender

What i put on the block

The time it took to rot

A way I never thought

Made sense to you but not to my

Who you fooling?

Hell it's not me

Who you're fooling

They're fixing to end my

They're tryna kill

When it rots then folksll see

Meanwhile it's on the block

And fools who want to kill

Point their shit at me

Because of you

Happy lieing

No holiday

Life is fun

Getting old living on a lie

Strange that the pain stops sometimes

Every minute I'm amazed

How i ever

I'm close to shrugging off my name

The fat on my body is a testament to how much of my past is resting without any angle into a future

Where can I swim?

What name will float?

No...none, but remembering a calling in general

I'm missing this

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