my head is in ruins. I cracked it open on the highway kerb to release the demons upon europa

shantih, shantih, shantih

But we like it here in the wasteland. Don’t get us wrong. Don’t ever say STOP

We like measuring the days in cigarette packets.

through the white nights we are making out  in the ECSTASY EMPTINESS on beds that are always just about to break

 

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dremeaning

post inspection, we can deny no longer that the city is built out of ROCK

from ROCK bottom the cold granite edifice rises

No. the city is inseperable from its monstrous foundations still

we can’t deny them any longer, the disasterous happenstances

that our cities don’t flower and float and disappear into the desert sand

we can’t deny that there are dead things buried everywhere under our feet

again dammit. something acquiesces

OH MY GAWWD

too many mornings like this, he watched the signs on billboard unravel and decode themselves

and he felt sick and stupid. His veins were pumping the same shit that made the city waver and lose itself

khemicals in the mainline, the sewers keep creeping up on us!

no. it is morning rain time again!

people are out wandering the streets in search of lost night and panadol and pastries and umbrellas.

a soft wind blows voices across the vast oceans and the voices they whisper to us,

they whisper COME INTO THE SEA. and they say everything and they say nothing but

OF CONFUSION Part 121

too much bloody ketamine dripping acridly down the back of his nostrils and this is the INCERTITUDE OF THE VOID. wherever we go we cannot escape

he could remember his bank balance well enough but he couldn’t really find any way in which to APPLY  it to the situation

which was out of hand, or actually much too clear for comfort. All zeros and ones. he was horribly KONFUZED by free choice who presented herself as a vicious specter on the dance floor

In a disco reverie James Joyce speaks to him:

Actually he doesn’t speak he laughs

THE WORLD IS ONLY WRITTEN ON THE VOID SURE

the world is tinged with chemical. It has this rainbow sheen like someone has spilt petrol all over it

either way the whole thing is simply a disaster waiting to happen

LOL

the final time i was sitting outside trinity library feeling larger than ever before a mad* person came up to me

he said DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU’LL FIND THE GREATEST PAINTING EVER PAINTED

and i said no i didn’t actually, i didn’t know that much about paintings

NOT IN THERE, he said, pointing at the library, smiling warmly

WHERE THEN?

RIGHT HERE, THIS SUNSET, ITS BEING PAINTED AS WE SPEAK! EVERY ATOM IS IN ITS RIGHT PLACE

i could tell he was completely mad because it was hard to separate his words from his laughter

OR ACTUALLY EVERY ATOM IS IN ITS WRONG PLACE, BUT THAT’S ART, LOVER

apparently aliens were coming to beam us up but it was O.K we’d all have a fantastic party out on the mothership once we were past the clouds

*Problematic it seems, as increasingly there are few “sane” people left. I don’t think I have met one in years. Have you? If so please contact me, and we can notify the correct authorities*

*if such authorities yet exist?

steam roller across your body. reconfigure your face and your life upon a flat plane

i needed 789087832949 squares miles of parchment and even then i don’t think I did justice to the ridges and the curves, the ocean’s bottom, the lacunae. the storms and tremors always causing disaster

you now take more pills than any real human being should be allowed. they’re all the wrong kind of pills

the un-fun ones. the ones that are meant to keep your brain from breaking open on the rocks

its pointless because your brain is already more fucked than the USSR

the world refuses to carry you on its wave

the government is fucking you over one cut to dissability at a time.

you are fucking the government over. On a computer somewhere you’re name is listed in relation to various costs and expenditures

your friends are fucking you over or you are fucking your friends over and not realizing

when you freak out i wish your body would jitter and spasm like a footwurk track. that would make sense. that would be something to watch

but you just go vacant

you walk in circles and keep sitting down then standing up and telling us you’re going home, but you never do,

you’re at home anyway to begin with so its no use

you insist you are not yourself. you say this as yourself but you say that you are not yourself.

we don’t know what to do with you

we don’t yet know how to chart that crisis ridden territory designated by you’re childish stare

we make apologies for you, we say you are unwell, but we don’t know you at all

we are scared to know you and we try to hide behind words

you are almost crying and I have never  yet seen you cry

your face is a map without directions only the names of cities with houses where nobody is home

lets talk about THE REAL Part 11

Brother James gives his yearly lecture on ORIGINAL SIN over christmas breakfast

Like the EGG, WE”RE ALL JUST A LITTLE BIT CRACKED

THE EGG. THE FUCKING EGG. ITS CRACKED

cant you see?

everyone present appreciates Brother James and Brother James’s metaphors. No one suggests you might have to crack the egg in order to eat it for breakfast

All except the pantry boi. In his strange and endless dreams he has smelt the garden burning again last night (or was it the toast?)

something was burning anyway, and he knows now that it always has being so

even before we first dipped our feet, in the warm shallow waters of Oceans vast and deep