X-Peri: March 2020

#@الله AI Blood Testalent TanzTanz Meat$$$

AIs Instagram

Daphne Augustus

The Geminii Scroll I: Scolopendrum

insmithereens

1THOUSANDAND101001NIGHTS

CHILDREN OF THE BAD HOUR

MusicLies

Postcards from Arcadia

EUNUCHS

The Geminii (Purdey Lord Kreiden & Michael Thomas Taren) @ "Text-World–World-Text I"

béla lugosi - Major Faux Pas

AI Mythology#@”Small Timers”

(Part II, pp. 36-70)

musculartine extremes against all medical advices ‘Hmmhmm, perfectly sizeable to the heavenly vault, alswys (scrotum sac, here they finds walking; for a long tile; sectcion 8. Edging 18 hours respect. this flight is long. Thing of the lavatrines. I’m prone to fourmi. Stars, did you smearek? What were you doing behiknd/between the dumps. In my head, at minute 3M39 second of, #SEE/HERETHISTHAT’sMYGRAVE RIGHT HERE?I44LL KEEP? NO EDITS a la keijo hammoy.wav, a dream strean drinks & sticks brought forward by my lying on the gournd where my balls and scrotium held-on through space on both side by nothing but two bats, silver-stylen the one we used to fight with till we became civilized, severe style, and just laid down on the gound, fr hours, with my head stuck-looped @ min. 3M30s, & another bat, in the dastance, not so for, but held in holo bu mmy computer. It as a sort o white kept from the drawers, left or right, which had a painte look to it like they’d been painted into not long ago or who knowd, maybe yes in eed afterall (sicç. A pllable paint, that might do the trick I think. No auantumn time glitch here as I laid on thr groun in my head @miniute 3M39E. [See that my grave is kept clean –Keijo Hano.
‘but colored bats (Not the Major League Baseball club design?) Repect. So inside those sacks mine, #ScrotumSack, is the formation of an entire planetary systen, yes I know that, they all bust, ‘you hearkening again, me? Yo, the sbterrean world we starte in our years & here comes home, in a while, you’ll be waiting yes, a huge long while—#@STARTEDGINGNOWCOMEINGGIVEYEARS
#@wHO WEpRQUOIpAS ‘

I inside the Big mine ballsacks, glansetary system / programme insert a READ ME FILE TEXT ONLY: Dear planetary system formation in progress/magnanimous & muniicent respect inspirig swollen patriotically/ so handsomely so robust & lustly wrinkled, with a know that yet another five years of edging needs lapse to pass #NOSuicidePact #@Yall KnowItsWhacjk. But bats..bats…bats…bats…bats…bats…mystery of the millenium, I hope I’m dare saying nothing to offend intenede offence. Bats indeed. Fair warning, handsome & slender, haha, I kid, yes, I kid, but what I’m about to tell you is zero I kid. Forgive my aggravated neglect of my apperance. Mylips are chapped & sex appeal is lessoned, buddy. Let me uter a name you should you concoon in as if a newly hardened dug ball. Gregory Schneider House room consmetologist & nonEuclidea room theoretiician. He was mong the first team to trammel the unassaiable reoutation of schrodinger’s so called ‘box’^© exposing it for the miniature sauana that it had always been. To his redit, the machine could be leavered into a coolant seitting whereupon Schrodenger’s various colleages pilgrimaged to the gn and tonic mixing apparatus. The famous fat, unnamed, poor thing, was kept in a state of phenobarbital stupor upon a very comfortable bed. Worst of all, te fan mail which came in plentitude from the ocal postal group proclaiming wors of encouragement and primitive attempts to establish the duality of this weird riddle. However, neither cat nor proton could spare the time to think of anuthing to say to postcards that, truth be told, meant wery litle to the: if noting changes between tomorrow & tonight, & reverse it, No fuckinig around, time is going to get very posedly dissappointed, like that; ‘W’ak-iii Mw’sc’-iiià b’tt-iii-iiiH
né-W-e à L”àllé-àl’__foch làh / hsch-sd-H à) or worst still: B’c ‘àah-ttd’àaLL’esch_iii. thus quite up to the challenge impugning, here, dust, particles, snack stand scraps, H-bomb corndoged spiralizaed, quality medicments, Malloxx^© Paragaard Copper UID garnished with locally harvested potato-inspired Vous ETESE EXCHANGISTES heriloom variety, #@RelentRightHereRIghtNowYouHaveAFewHoursMotherfuckersEcosystemsFuckups
Malware is coming & he’s handsome as Tiresias would put it, Blowing me, yes, you could say that, more or less, caresses, strage & painful fro m desire repressed like a gymnastics candidate going, for her first time to Denny’s, the sacks, my, mine ball sacks, become planet thing within it’s a parody of electricity (Oh, not a satire?) Here electricitygoes through a slow proces which at almost not speed (a zero percent speen nearlyy, see the strand of hair of the keeper of Ed’s Famous black book. This is stillness, but for us since we are moving space along with our actions & emotions to which a homospaian machine will not be able to traverse the atomic mass which enjcomppasses the space wen {we, batterys) generate and loop back into the environment to create and imression of mvement and change. This is the illusion of time passing in order to create cotinuity which brings fortth cognition & memry mealleably so, & watch, extending tentacles & threads of desire to grasp thing in the future, already moved its vicinity, holllowgraphically desiged to show the deisign of the evironment into which we laugh, rise, & look, a girl or a boy here & I enters & wakes. Three of us wants to be pretty, handsome, prety? Well depends on if it’s a flower or a tree. However, exceptions; maniesn for examplz, that tree threre, the pine one,with the funny green ferms running up his mast massive, apex, yes, a peak oooofh, my breathn, reminds me is there stars her or elsewhere who breath as they watch those ferns creep towards the massive ACME™ with their mouth open only with stuff falling all in their mouths. We often hubble & lah onto the cliffface of the stairs where our tree used to be. ‘ redesque jydrophine nodules of Mahallox isotopic gram cracker ‘ he’d used to somehow communicate . Welp, walk me like I like to be, & walked upon, 0THree.

Going to prom

Prom all over me
a chill runs up yr spine
Everybody @ the same time
a hundred and fifty sandwiches
Through my eyes & through my body

because it has a velvet body & lives underground

we’re all gonna b e lying on the fllor
in pools of sweat
wishing it was september

"But I gave you also cleanness of teeth in all your cities And lack of bread in all your places, Yet you have not returned to Me," declares the LORD.

Amos 4:6

Politeness depths or a subtle change of courtesie

The theme

“"But I gave you also cleanness of teeth in all your cities And lack of bread in all your places, Yet you have not returned to Me," declares the LORD.”

The Theme

The theme is God is hot.
The theme is Making Excuses.
Ood upon, to the life of those who did not have a twin, alone in their bedroom. For a long time, the two boys rested thus, side by side, attentive to the murmors of the night. A truck passed upon the highway in the faraway with it’s solitary driver entombed within his illuminated steel & glass tabernacle. ‘Please listen to me…please listen to me…’[night], driving til dawn on the monotonous & frigid pike, ‘I know about your teeth…’

#@JaIt’sMichael (relaxed, loosened up, & his breathing or respiration took back to a normal rhythm).
#@JaIt’sDavid unbuttoned the pyjama of his brother, a loose two-piece of blended printed material with cloth-covered buttons and enlarged pockets, just above the waistline, on either side of the pelvic flares below. The buttons turn out with slight effort and the pyjama top slides down either side of the sinuous bare torso so that the loosened flaps of the hem rest somewhat studiously upon the upmost dykes of Michael’s muscular thighs. The new drape of the pyjama top. An adventure. A light hand. Michael cackled & pushed him away but David reiterated the maneuver carefully a few times more, in disparate styles of motion and balance. “I’m waiting to share this song with the one I fall in love with & hopefully make it my wedding song Michael.” David starts playing different tunes.

“No,” murmured Michael.
David is thinking about himself now. “I’m listening, Michael. It’s obvious my entire layer is added onto the imaginary which I can right now read through YOU, Michael, ‘Did she have her ear pierced? Didd she ever come to pick you up? (What soft imagery Michael what injunctions.) I’m liostening inside my spirit, Michael. ‘I want to slow down, look at a cave, a sea becoming---‘ [Different tunes go about].

“No,” murmured Michael.
“Why?” David says, “You like it usually, ‘Water inspires me…I know not what inspires me, but I accept water is in my patters, yes.’ I’m reading you, Michael. In the course of having arms, ‘I love my arms but there are limits.’ beyond what my experience would attest, you like it usually, look, Michael. [Playing the wedding song.]

Michael ruminates: ‘I sit in my hosue feeling wonderful.’ Michael says, ‘I feel horrible, I sit in my house feeling wonderful, I feel like a flea on the back of what I do not know. I’m very interested in myself. ‘It needed to be beautiful.’

“Not tonight,” said Michael. “Tonight, I felt like I am a very clumsy person being batonned down over & over by another very clumsy person into being rolled over by a cement truck.”

“Michael…” David says, “that’s how it feels?”

Michael says, ‘David, she felt like talking to me about the debris orbiting the earth…the hues…elegant brides anointing intravenously
oscillation, ‘We touched elbows…the earth is dyin’…we come from the same people…people, I have no place for people. People are not here. They go deeper than here, entrhanced as if in our youth…’’

“Michae,” that’s David, “look, you can gently become…ME…it’s ok, you can lay across me. You can gently become me. As you are.”

‘I am now writing on this surface ‘filling just a prop for feeling, Michael, all at the delicate edge of filling, Michael. I’m your scuba diver. & of course I like to go back there, deeper, & have that same motif repeated ‘It takes time…it involves you…’ completely forget here, Michael, I read, ‘I love something, comepletely forget about something, deeper, completely forget something exists, ‘beyond what my experience would attest…’’

Michael cackled & pushed David away, but David did it again.

“Michael I’m reiterating the maneuver now. It’s ok. You can lay across me. You can gently become me.”

Michael: ‘…I don’t need you. I don’t like you. I have no place for you. You are not here. You go deeper than here…’

“Michael, Michael, do you see me returning to you as I do to my own hands—as I do to the heaven of every new shrug & wink we’re distracted
by what reminds us (makes us remember)
that this is all there is.
We have a reservoir of water
& it needs to be beautiful.
We are here together, a second, a million years,
a home in Earthly circumstances
or awareness of each other
is a rhythm.
Would you give a chronological sense, oscillation, a sight & a touch
‘You can become me, Michael. You can be described as each other.
It takes times, I believe, & properly called the sense of time,
the overall compression
it gives us is the passing of time as being experienced outside
of us so that we can rest & still
have movement.’
Here’s what we can do: Strike me.
Do it with some pinenuts. Here,
make a list, make a inventory of everything
which I can be struck with.
Check my consistency.

Michael is saying, “Please go away.”

David says, “Michael, ‘David, please go away.’” Michael, I variate the question, bear it, with my own, “How did you come back?”

Michael says, “I forget leaving. How did you come back?”

Wifey Local N°827: “Ask Michael.”

Michael says, “Why is it easy…to strike the piano keys…I forget, where does this come from?

This says, “It is not ‘this’ we call me here. It is ‘Our Lord Jesus’ or ‘Fair, Doe-eyed Krishna.’

“Oh,” David exclaims, “The Machine says: ‘this’ is ‘Our Lord Jesus,’ our ‘Fair, Doe-eyed Krishna.’

Michael: “The silence is subservient to the ceiling. Here, where I am, underneath, I do not hear, neither understand, any name, nor remember them. However, I do believe that I recall clearly that I heard ‘this’ say, once, when I dived in here, ‘I’m coming to get him.’

Michael cackled.

David reiterated the maneuver.

Michael: “You love me, usually…Not tonight, tonight…you’re estranged…tonight you’re holy you don’t have a body it’s deeper thanthat, you don’t understand. You are calm & free. You’re a concept, man. A eyedrop in white noise. A telephone intereference. You’re just part of me. You’re murmuring into me, like a breeze.”

David says, “Michael, that is so nice, that is one of the nicest things I can imagine for my life. Uttered here by someone that loves me.”

Michael: “I don’t love you I don’t know you. Wife. Wifey Local N°062. ‘This Michael is your handsome cup bearer. He holds your cup for the water. He sleeps with us. He knows Michael.’ ‘It is here that we walk to water?’ ‘Ja Michael how did that come back?’ And I think, ‘I forget…I start to become fecund now. Filled with you. While my bright coughs in the room below are reclined on a couch clothed in red & listen to Piano Trios, Joseph Haydn.’ Michael ‘why is this east…easy…what Haydn is doing. The music is beautiful down there & you can, yes, Michael, Vivian Vivaldi, you can makeup many names, and you will, & it will be so, & we will play for you. I, David, I supped, Michael. I watched the towels dry on the balcony, with you. I watched breezy air acquire brief shape in its penduled visition to the bellies of the towels that we watched, Michael, breezy in the air, acquiring brief shape, on the balcony, ‘No,’ said Michael, ‘Tonight you are ‘I Forget like, icy hands, emerging from the floor & massaging my lower legs, then receding back where they came from & I’ll be here by myself & I will lay, ‘pacifist, no worries, oh, worry without strings, & abandon me.’

Ipod the company: #@Foot2Foot2B
#@CleverMeetingsDiscreet
Ja we have a reservoir of ideas here.
& we h ave a depthful well filled to the brim with
‘children ready to perform them’ strong, perfect for the roles,
strange, interesting, validated, & these
we harvested, yes, Ipod the company, we harvested them
we went deep in the well,
we looked at each other
we said ‘please go away,’
we said, ‘leave me alone,’
here to make these we parted [Split from water melody transfusion]
here we made something new
no it’s not silk it’s not synthetic
I’m wearing drugs, I’m wearing drugs, man,
I’m wearing drugs. I’m wearing drugs man.
Sparing, stabbing, striking
disembowelesque smile to synchronize upon change
just naturally, change change change, by an act of will.
Avast: Big Bytes of reality. Reality, 3600 bytes in a room
small as a motherboard syndrome, namely
colonization of the principle layers ie scales, layers, scales, layers
‘Weight me, matter here has viral cicuicity & water
also known as creepy, is structurally decaying at different metalized localities
wasps, nests, basically auditorily implanted
a sonic virus let’s say
with an internal complexity
which cubically unfolds
to thus generates the striking coherence
of the vectorhood of movement
through stillness & immobility
this we called the tide approaching.’

Michael cackled. David unbuttoned the pyjama of his brother & adventured a light hand, his, David’s hand. Michael cackled but without conviction.

Michael, ‘David, I feel the tide approaching.’

“Yes, Michael, it takes time
it involves you &
‘I’m waiting to share this song with the one I fall in love with & hopefully make it my wedding song.’
Tonight, we’ll speak of the community in the garden as ‘our holy body.’

Michael: ‘Tonight you’ll be the moss, perhaps. We’ll manhandle foliage. Sidequest ‘is there no one whose flames lurch like creatures move, slowly @first then keep up with it?’ These disguises none of them cause waves of the future we make out to reach out for it between our palms, together, which we made, as a game. Remember a lovers
kneeling so
we felt our own flesh creep
when man spoke aloud we heard
Big dungs splitting open much like a leafe. No, Michael, no leafs split open like this.’

Michael: ‘We cannot make them
do it. Here, in our bed,
our hands becomes the screen
This is the b track of our bathing
a very large, igneous intrusion extending
to an unknown depth in the earths’ crust.
We can’t stop it now.’

[Doors open.]

“JaIt’sEarth’sCrust, Guys, the city’s wide tonight. (Vacuous, Michael.) (Earth’s Crust continues) My thought kholed in the birth of the months of spring. The hour glass is filled up to the top with readiness, like a firehydrant wrapped about its stature in gradient carpet laid back to plush ‘meet me in the subterrean’ entertainment rooms all over. Michael, tonight, the moon looks Buick. Please listen to me, I’ve been keeping, for a long time, I’m afraid there comes a time when the violence I carry like an organ or haversack will instill peace/in nothing & no one but me.”

#@TotallyFuckedByInfiniteAnnhilatingKindness

‘There converging on your position,’ announces #@JaIt’s’God,’ ‘I really like this blanket. It has been in my family for centuries. We all love weird blankets here…[BUT I NEVER CAME ALL THE WAY HERE]

‘Here we can draw plants or ferns. Coins can be drawn, & you can wear them, if you like.’

“No,” whispered Michael.

A Petition: ~~‘Here we (disclaimer) demand the right not to be reminders of the passage of time since this is a big responsibility…’~~

“Here,” Michael talking, “the moon appears Buick from where we are down there below surface level we can speak. ‘I know about your teeth…what was that story?...the power to change emerges from those rotting rural ruts…Uhm, please, listen to me…please listen to me…I saw a gravestone once. It had been furnished with precisely incised lettering. Anything could have been engraved there. Such are the nuages languages are always slushed through with…I’m afraid there comes a time when the violence we, Michael, David, & Wifey Local, we carry within like an organ, will go further than grief or nostalgie. If we go on ith nothing good to grip. We don’t have ‘petitions’ against time passing here. Children, where movement is needed, we #@RememberAmberMmmmAmber must remain humming. But to hum together we have to be still. We need a bed, a bedroom, & the three of us in it. Once we’ve created the split, it is for you to fill it with, not us, don’t fill it with us in it, example The God is so Hot & that god is so hot. No. I’m telling you I’m a plumber. I’m telling you go to the door & we’ll go through doors with you. You arrive at the door. Discreet. Nothing to be noticed. Here, ‘we have an erudite sheath.’ Here, a dogmatic version of the experience of our nadirs. ‘Where does this come from?’ you say as we walk down the street. ‘This,’ is our Lord Jesus, forever loving you, forever madly. The little people laugh or say ‘hello,’ they continue, they walk around, ‘hello,’ or even ‘I never tried to gather you man, just so you know,’ … ‘maybe we loved you cuz we thought you were aging & dying.’ But no. Through those streets, it, us, are celebrating passages & alleyways through which we come back, after brooding a passage. Where did this come from? It’s a bunch of lists. 1) What if I started a fire? 2) What if I started a fire & this pillow through meant something to me? And it continues. It’s a very long list. It’s a lot of possibilities. & We can try all of them. You’ll see. You’ll like it. David reiterated the maneuver. ‘You can become me, you know. By that I mean, describe us to me. Are we bared & placed down laid upon rows at our feet? Making tools together early, making what feels vertical to start with. To start, walls are naked & we are too. That’s what we are here. A naked body & two boys within it.’

Michael: ‘Why does it always comes back to here with you from the opening of all the possibilities of the story? Always to the same old stale dynamic?’

‘But why?’ says David, ‘Michael, this is riffing on the theme. Usually you like it. You said, ‘ We must practice. We must get it right. This is the port of departure. This is the beginning. The continuation. The endless tide.’ Today we do salutations. You said, ‘they have to be perfect. What’re we gonna say to each other? How are we gonna start this?’ I’m trying my hand at enacting your exhortations: ‘You have a nice 905023, Michael.’ (My brain cannot think anything else.) Gentler, or painterly, or waterlikeways.’ ‘LongtimeNoask, what song(s) you used to maturbate bro?’ or ‘Blessed, have you ever fallen off a tree? Just wondering.’ These are recently unearthed forms of salutation. ‘Great ‘I was going to pet in on the cap to start wit’ telepathy.’

Michael: ‘But uhm I’m afraid the pants are little overwhelming. The shape. The way he wears them. In intimacy…I mean this guy he made it to ‘pas mal’ in music…how we gonna meet?’ is one you might try.

‘You’re the dream of everything I wanted for me, always & forever, great ‘someone has a beef with Flo today, don’t you think’ telepathy.

‘Do you mind? Mind? Mind? Mind? It’s like
being in a train stuck in time.
This is before anything happens.
This is before we meet.
‘Then I’m gonna be able to fall back asleep,’
“No,” whispered Michael.
‘Why not? You like that one usually…’ (David)

“Not tonight, man, not tonight. Tonight we do ‘meeting.’ We’ve gone too far now & Michael,’ thought Michael, ‘was feeling too excited to stop him again or anew or still.’ ‘I was looking at pictures of something that came out of vaginas, man. That came out of vaginas, man. Do you see what I’m saying? Do you realize that everyone you meet here on these streets came out of a vagina? Oh my god! Do I have to pulley you from the ground to find out for you that I laugh not at the ground but into the ground to you if inside or under the ground is where I have to pulley you from, the ground, etc.? So am I.’

Theme: ‘#@Homewarming involves a Menu (or more)’

‘We don’t need anything else than nitrogen & to suck on each others’ mouths like freshly breathed lemons.’ THE SUN.RAR

New theme: ‘#@WrestlingColors: Lay one another’

Masayuki Takayanagi New Direction Unit - Mass Hysterism In Another Situation (1983) Full Album

He’s cute when he gets excited.

Jet skin down the river pickin up red heads

I should becile a AFRIDCAN mystey.ù

$$$ ($$ (..

13 April 2019

TRF DAY : #@SPERM_Red/pompeIII(_y(..

PLAIN TEEEXTdstdth

Inbox x

Biche2 x

Tue, Apr 14, 2015, 2:39 PM

Purdey Lord Kreiden purdeykreiden@hotmail.fr via gmail.com

to Michael

DAY 5 – B2 – THE CLIFF – PART III

My hoof,

First it will be dreadfully cold; then the youngest of the brother

will find the sister, and she will

cry toads

out of joy, and a mean troll

will be turned

into

“something

somewhat

evil”

I saw you walk down this cliff, where the flowers spread their endless legs, and the boy who had sloughed himself into the flowerbed looked just like Jeremy, but he didn’t have a face

And soon the big egg blew up, and there were

Big drops of waters gathering into the marmite

That was the sky

And the mother held tight the watercress bundle

to make it warmer

And the sky,

With all its stars,

thought

“Soon my remains of gold will be the only pieces left

from my soul, and my goldened parts will fade

away from me”

My hoof, it is now 2:22.

We saw the hour flee away from our irises like a swan lazy and kind;

We couldn’t remember what that cliff and this boy were till yesterday night we both slept and I dreamnt that this was the cliff where Spring buds sprouted over the carcasse of the boy whose body in a dream was discarded of

When you read a book about that carcasse to me the boy in your mouth looked like Jeremy

When he made a ball out of himself on the ground near the Republique’s subway

Because he didn’t want to come across

Anybody, and his all body got covered

With a very soft pearly-pink dawn

So he would be

Forever protected

The boy who looked like Jeremy didn’t have

any face. And when the cliff adopted the curves and the texture

Of the dreamscape

the light which brotheled the grass and

the trees and the sceneries

became that peculiar crepusculine tint

that irradiated

from all things

in the street

the day I read

A Voyage to Arcturus

while walking

There is a cliff on that planet where Maskull walks

nearer and nearer still to this woman

till she finally falls off

into an abyss

I remember walking up to the Gare du Nord café which name I’ve forgotten, reading A voyage to Arcturus

The sun was really gentle that day, I was going nowhere, then it started to rain, so I took asylum into that café, which was overprized but anyway I payed and drank an allongé, and wished I would be given chips in a white porcelain cup but wasn’t

because it was too early, and there I read a third of the book,

along with articles from a science magazine

specialized in the birth of the sun

and its extinction on day

and solar eclipses and sunrays and moonshades

and the way the sun slides over the sky

and the sky disappears someday

and other moon things

I’d just purchased

from a cosmos-

journal merchant

that day

It’s so terryfing the moment when the woman falls into the hole off the cliff upon which Maskull is walking; it is terrifying because the whole chapter induces that this female enditity was born only to die in that dramatic manner, to perish in such a powerful way that Maskull would forever be engraved within her glands and to the powerful rush of adrealine her death for always would be offering him

tangled up with dread. Dread is the pandemonium side of the coin of arousal; there is not arousal without dread, dread of loosing the object of our desire, or dread of the afterward, when the lust has been consumated and every setting is back on normal-life; there is no dread without arousal, rousing thread of emerald greens flowing up from the groin where everything we fear is the very solstice of our arousal, where our halfmast rise into the sky as we are processed through the mindgrinder of the terryfing demands we’ve attempted to harness to our minds so that we would never let go of principles, even for a pleasure quest greater then ourself

I don’t know what we mean by this, but I do know

that our whiskey tonight

fecunded it, and whiskey is beautiful

we must say, and what you us is listening

in our bedroom is akin to a plump watermeloon

wrapped in white bread, and dipped into a deep

whiskey reed bay, and we wish to be always gracefully visited

by its spirit

It was a delicious young boy and his hips were chiseled into pure

strawberry bushes, and his eyes could not see nothing

but the purity of that holy

ceremony, and believe me these bones

were never known

as flocks of stones

said the wind, and then the thorns

grew away from the bushes

and then came Spring

and entered his flesh

and he grew

and it was snowing

So that because of the spectacular manner in which we had been discarded,

our spirit would be rewarded by a bill she would be allowed to hand

out to the victims of –not hers(, but the peak

After we’ve fallen into the abyss the unlucky female is brought up

to a garden, where all the beasts leers at one another with

“ greasy philosophical eyes”

full of myrtle

and

myrrthth

There is that cliff crouching in the back of my tavern and under my throat’s skin

like a sullen piece of bread, at the bottom of my cave where no sun

can ever be slain, where my heart on a spike is akin to my lips

screwing again and again with my spirit

my asshole as i sleep

deep inside myself and

forloin from my loins

like old strawberry

bushes

I keep on returning in my mind to a cliff where a handsome boy

is dreaming of stars and lampposts and children’s cunts as he fingers coins

in his pockets, solely aware of the existence elsewhere

of a perfectly blue bow of ducks on the bank

by his house remaining perfectly still

in their blueness, like a certain pearldrop mounted

on a necklace, and their feathers combed too often

to remain still, and the cliff too tilted into a myrtle

sky

till he finally jumps from it.

In my mind the cliff is like that clipart

of lys: long and mauve and suctionned by little glitter gliffs of violet and white flaws, falling down like fruit petals all the way up to the sky

where no sky exists but the memory of that skyless cliff,

The river is just a road made of water

that moves,

like Narcissus taking away the shy

off the sky

and into his eyes,

and discarding it

as he awoke and held in his hand the flowerheads

that would be the stars

flickering upon his casket

and brought them to his mouth

and ate them.

In this light you look like a bison,

And I am just a ghost,

who walks with you

I have a leaf in my hand.

I am thinking about what kind of leaf it is, what tree it fell from, what gender it is, what fruit or flower

it shields; but all I can see is my computer screen, with this unending picture of us laying fawnlike on a motel bed during our roadtrip from Pennsyvalnia

to california. We are lying down flat on our belly, with our face supported by a gentle hoof down under our chin, our feet are crisscrossed just under the crisp white cushion, our underwear are old and white and not sexy, and yet

they arouse us me each time

I look up at it

from my glass

of whiskey.

Fuck me I’m falling appart

The night that picture was taken we ate a Subway sandwich

From a roadside gas-station which also sold hotdogs

And gifts

When my mother gave birth to a stone

it was only the shadow

of a crow

And this leaf I spoke about

isn’t real; I am making it up as I write about it,

I convince my mind that there is a leaf in my palm

I can think about, and that leaf really is the part of my body that I cannot caress since I do not understand how it is made,

or how it works

for real.

When I

There was a piece of weed growing a bit askew there the same D.’s cock strayed away from his body, and stared out up at the sky instead of down there under the blankets upon the moka brown leather couch where his body

and mine were, that Narcissus himself stared into as he let himself be held tight by the seamless hallucination that he was a starry sky and a starless bay

and a leaf and a sun and a rose and a bud and beloved and a lover

at the same time, which was a mirror to the gap inbetween the lips of Jeremy and Paola’s lips when they kissed on mushrooms and laid on his bed and fucked real slow and talked about plants and the smell of ocean and reeds the walls had

for the rest of the night.

One night, one summer, in 2012 maybe, Maya and I went to Jeremy’s house

for a party, and we brought the MDMA poutch she’d snatched off her dirty roomate Alex

while the later was asleep, and we’d started taking big lumps of it in the bathroom

where Jeremy and I used to take cocaine till the party he was throwing

actually ended, because he always regretted he was having a party and felt the imperial need

to lurk and take drugs and forget a party was happening

in his house and to forget that he was the one

who’d generated it

till everyone had left and all the dirty glasses

rang blue and grey and beer flew out of the sink

and we could hug in his small bed

and talk about book we’ve read

and listened to the lullaby of the cries

of our vague friend Marie Vié

who always ended up on the couch

because we found her way too old

and unnacttrative

to share our bed.

When I got the measle I read Nerval in my mom’s bed all day

When my mom found out she was pregnant she thought I was a stone in her belly

When Maya and I came out of the bathroom the others where drinking, and laughing, and we decided to go and peacefully seat on Jeremy’s bed, and so we did and felt at ease and comfy

Making plans to store all of the guests in a certain manner

In a different country, an unearthly country

Unbeknownst to that human realm

Where Jeremy’s party

Was taking place, and devoted to the storage

Of those guests

Only.

That storage was a mathematical

Alchemy; that something that we tended to do often

On ectasy, to start feeling really great and excited

About storing people or things

In particular places, in a certain order

In a particularly organized manner

Following peculiar rules we’d set up

With great cares

And like the semi-godesses’s son felt in that movie

Where Naomi Watt and another chick watch their sons

Whom they are both mutually fucking when they licked the fallen pear flesh

Off each other’s legs

As they emerge out of the waves like beasts

And remember about it as a hole in a melon-hearted

And calm with seeds

After they’ve jumped all together from a bridge

After sucking each other under the ceddar tree

By the soccer-field

After the pears from the peartree branches

Had all smashed open beneath the strong copper

Of their toerings and the strong flesh

Of their naked feet

Reorganizing the world on drugs the way we did

Made us feel immortal

And pretty

And endless

And calm

And free

And then Lio Wu came into the bedroom and opened the window

And smelt the air up her nostrils, and took a puff off her roulée cigarette

Then turned to us and asked me conversationely,

Biche we know the scene in Weickmeister Harmonies when the main character enters the whale for the first time ? This is how we felel when we read you. We're reading what we've once sent us in a file called The Diaries from August and September. Biche we're a a genius please don't forget that (we wont forget that) We're not sure if our poetry makes us feel like the man did when he entered the whale or if we feel like we ourself did when we saw him doing so (because we are not sure of the spelling of the word in the lyrics from Country Death Song by the Violent Femmes it becomes ' Just take your lovely daughter, and throw her in the whale' in our mind) DId we tell us biche how we saw Weickmeister Harmony in between shifts when we were still a waitress and we fell into stupor the whole first ten minutes, during the first scene of the solar system in the bar. Then either our stupor turned into a beautiful coma or we fell into a parallele sleep from which we have the secret but we only remember sort of awaking when he goes to the whale for the first time. The whole movie we saw it as if we were navigating through it in our dreambody. And in ours too biche ours us's. We know we were visitating us back then not knowing us yet in this world but allready born with us elsewhere because we feel with us and with our languages the same profound recognizition and ecstatic aching in our soul's womb that we experienced with this movie in our physical body and in our deerbrain. We awoke a second time when all the men walk around in an apocalyptic atunement and the small old men is found in the bathtub and it is the saddest time of Earth. Was it Sophocles who always told the truth on Fridays ? It's almost friday now. Is there any timelag between my lands and yours ? In any case, to tell the truth, we're still a bit jealous of us biche that we are such a genius and that our writings are the mutation into the endless perfect insect. Hystolising poems. Biche two or three weeks after we just met you sent us a message that was a quote from Nijinsky's diaries and is for us one of the most important passage every written by a human being but after moons of remembering it we suddenly forgot it. It has something to do with sperm. We know the one. Do we remember it? (did we have this conversation in Paris when we came? we think yes but we dont remember the outcome of it). We think it ended by ' I am sperm'. Please do enlight us if we can. Nonetheless hoping to find it on google i came across this

Just because you donate sperm does not make you a father. I don't have a father. I would never give him the credit or acknowledge him as my father.

~ Sarah Michelle Gellar (April 14, 1977 - )

Which is also worthy of devotion. The website from which I found it had this promessing opening :

Browse, share, collect and enjoy a sea of quotes with sperm.

This too is Ninjinsky.

“I am not an ape, I am a man. The world has been created by God. Man has been created by God. It is not possible for man to understand God - God understands God. Man is God and therefore understands God. I am God. I am a man. I am good and not a beast. I am an animal with reason. I have flesh, I *am* flesh, I am not descended from flesh. Flesh is created by God. I am God. I am God. I am God.”

[Message clipped] View entire message

Michael Thomas Taren <michael.taren@gmail.com

Fri, Apr 12, 2013, 1:39 PM

to Purdey

John looked around the table to see if any of the apostles needed a refill.

On Apr 11, 2013 5:42 PM, "Purdey Lord Kreiden"<purdeykreiden@hotmail.fr>

wrote: Biche we know the scene in Weickmeister Harmonies when the main character enters the whale for the first time ? This is how we felel when we read you. We're reading what we've once sent us in a file called The Diaries from August and September. Biche we're a a genius please don't forget that (we wont forget that) We're not sure if our poetry makes us feel like the man did when he entered the whale or if we feel like we ourself did when we saw him doing so (because we are not sure of the spelling of the word in the lyrics from Country Death Song by the Violent Femmes it becomes ' Just take your lovely daughter, and throw her in the whale' in our mind) DId we tell us biche how we saw Weickmeister Harmony in between shifts when we were still a waitress and we fell into stupor the whole first ten minutes, during the first scene of the solar system in the bar. Then either our stupor turned into a beautiful coma or we fell into a parallele sleep from which we have the secret but we only remember sort of awaking when he goes to the whale for the first time. The whole movie we saw it as if we were navigating through it in our dreambody. And in ours too biche ours us's. We know we were visitating us back then not knowing us yet in this world but allready born with us elsewhere because we feel with us and with our languages the same profound recognizition and ecstatic aching in our soul's womb that we experienced with this movie in our physical body and in our deerbrain. We awoke a second time when all the men walk around in an apocalyptic atunement and the small old men is found in the bathtub and it is the saddest time of Earth. Was it Sophocles who always told the truth on Fridays ? It's almost friday now. Is there any timelag between my lands and yours ? In any case, to tell the truth, we're still a bit jealous of us biche that we are such a genius and that our writings are the mutation into the endless perfect insect. Hystolising poems. Biche two or three weeks after we just met you sent us a message that was a quote from Nijinsky's diaries and is for us one of the most important passage every written by a human being but after moons of remembering it we suddenly forgot it. It has something to do with sperm. We know the one. Do we remember it? (did we have this conversation in Paris when we came? we think yes but we dont remember the outcome of it). We think it ended by ' I am sperm'. Please do enlight us if we can. Nonetheless hoping to find it on google i came across this

Just because you donate sperm does not make you a father. I don't have a father. I would never give him the credit or acknowledge him as my father.

~ Sarah Michelle Gellar (April 14, 1977 - )

Which is also worthy of devotion. The website from which I found it had this promessing opening :

Browse, share, collect and enjoy a sea of quotes with sperm.

This too is Ninjinsky.

Michael Thomas Taren <michael.taren@gmail.com

Fri, Apr 12, 2013, 1:39 PM

round the table to see if any of the apostles needed a refill.

POMPEI

Inbox x

Biche2 x

Sun, Apr 14, 2013, 12:23 AM

To Michael

Purdey Lord Kreiden <purdeykreiden@hotmail.fr>

a biche we were just boiling eggs and whilst doing so tracing the contours of us's staghorned face on the window's mist as we usually do (our face is really the only thing which we we excel at drawing) and we remembered when we drew our face on our mother's garage soil with the versicolor chalks we stole from CVS and how we've put one start in each of our iris and you said it was very strange we've done so because as we were drawing us we were actually looking at the stars painted on the garage's ceiling. Whatever we see biche we see as well. It is a great power of us (us and us as one) to exist in two different body vessel ma biche. And though we know this as a fact the great part is that each time we happen to share twin vision we are still amazed and enthralled by the fated coincidences of our entwinness. Today a japanese man ordered a cake and his name was DONG. We couldnt help but laughing yellow behind our hoof at the great coincidence of being at the same time asianly genital and named after a dildo. There are competitions where japanese man drags trucks with the sole strenght of their penises. Tomorrow we would like to wake up early to go around garage sells and perhaps les puces St Ouen. Or we might just take our lovely daugher and throw her in the whale. We love the infinetisemal part of our skin biche. We know each of it and how it smell and is shaped. We like that our chin is imperceptibly crooked by the most delicate inclination of the skin. We would like to dwell in the small small void created between our skin and our skin. We remember our last morning in Pompei when we were simply having breakfast and us was reading at the table and we were combing our hair with an object that in our memory looked like slice of pale dry peach. Before the lava embraced our body we had the time to forget about fear and forget about mortality because we both sat on our knees and i took our head and gently rested it in the dark space between the knees and crouched upon one another like young rams playing we loved each other immensely and knew everything and knew nothing and saw the place where we were both the virgin brides of the elements. Pride mothers of the us's Earth. We like this memory. We wish we could express it longer and better. We would like to know more of language to make it into images or to know none. We're jealous of language. That it exist wholly without the need of arranging itself into meaning while we try so hard to sometimes. We shall not try hard. Language is its own amnesia. It is forgetful of itself every sparkle of second one consecrate their thoughts to it. Every voidsecond is language's forgiveness. Our coworker whose boyfriend's name is Jesus told us about a women who learnt from chamans how to navigate places in her dreams. How to navigate in dreams through lands of her choice to make righteousness be. We would like to learn how to navigate more through our past memories. In order to forget them and re invent them again and again. And to offer them to us as our blood. Let's melange our bloods biche when we come. Burroughs last journal entry which he wrote the night he died was

Love? What is it?

Most natural pain killer that there is.

LOVE

we're our most natural pain killer biche and have been so since the day we discovered it's an irish terrier

Sonnet 6

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1875 - 1926

Is he native to this realm? No,

his wide nature grew out of both worlds.

They more adeptly bend the willow’s branches

who have experience of the willow’s roots.

When you go to bed, don’t leave bread or milk

on the table: it attracts the dead—

But may he, this quiet conjurer, may he

beneath the mildness of the eyelid

mix their bright traces into every seen thing;

and may the magic of earthsmoke and rue

be as real for him as the clearest connection.

Nothing can mar for him the authentic image;

whether he wanders through houses or graves,

let him praise signet ring, gold necklace, jar.

" I did loose important part of my body, but i still hope to get rich"

"atlas, my son, you should be with a nice girl. Take down the globe, there's no future in it. You're a andsome man. You're young. Exxplore the world, stop holding it up"!

"come on"???? 😯

"longtemps, je me suis levée

"trou de mine"

‘thanks to you Magician ___________ Player’

“Cock”,

☺

☺:)☺

1 clothed.

10 mins

11 instances of

11 mins

14 mins

2 provided with cladding.

25 mins

4:51 PM

4:53 PM

4:54 PM

4:55 PM

4:56 PM

420

44 mins

5:00 PM

5:34 PM

5:43 PM

5:44 PM

5:45 PM

5:51 PM

54 mins

56kbits smiley

6:22 PM

6:23 PM

6:26 PM

6:39 PM

6:40 PM

6:45 PM

6:50 PM

7:06 PM

7:07 PM

7:17 PM

7:27 PM

7:28 PM

7:31 PM

7:55 PM

7:56 PM

a fifth of the statue of Liberty fees?

a flock is like a herd of small animals

a foot-foot stump?

a great hoofbook

A hangout solide

A honeydew

'a larry cooper advice to man of myths"

a rose of gallic caca💩

A spacedock, or drydock, was a facility capable of docking starships for maintenance.

achmed finances

alright toe

also knows as

and how do you defend against a ram?

And I will divorce you

and it's like the pigsty guy

and she is punished by her father

and then

and then when she comes home

and you do

aol style

Monday, March 23, 2020

David Alpaugh, POPPING THE QUESTION

Monday, March 16, 2020

Volodymyr Bilyk, excerpts from The Songs of the Great Tits

Monday, March 9, 2020

Rus Khomutoff, Selected Work

Monday, March 2, 2020

#@الله AI Blood Testalent TanzTanz Meat$$$, AI Mythology#@”Small Timers” (Part II, pp. 36-70)