Its slaves robs you and utter the words of gratitude
Thursday, May 2, 2024
Monday, April 15, 2024
taking space (sonic)
this guy in the studio near mine blasts loud music all the time when he works (i can barely hear myself think) I believe it's the multibillion record industry that's pumping out these giant works of his.
I'm reminded of the I'm-a-perfume-guy at lunch who sat at my table (I couldn't taste anything)
Thursday, March 28, 2024
Wednesday, February 28, 2024
Wednesday, January 3, 2024
Saturday, December 23, 2023
As it put on a spurt towards fucking off the sun fast approached the maritime horizon upon which a mound of cumulungus clouds were stacked. Today’s orb would be obscured prematurely and the temperature, too, plunge with it; he turned around to walk back to base while the orange still shone on the puff of his back. The speakers that lined the seaside played don’t look back in anger rendered in piano. While he paced in long strides swinging his molluscoid arms, couldn’t help but look back to the sun much like a dog taken away from its bone. Finally his mobile device went black and he froze mid-stride into a pillar of double-helix salt.
Friday, December 22, 2023
Thursday, December 14, 2023
Wednesday, November 29, 2023
with synchronization of inidcated time
maybe the world is like homogenized milk
incessant ringing of the deceased's phones
i would no longer be 37 then, strapped in my seat as the 777 maneuvered around Russian airspace, towards the coming sunrise
the new generation:
one utz flavor replaced shrimp crackers, steamy hopang and pizza sticks
the quality of the wine, don’t mention
meal portion reduced by a third
one thing to look forward to was another cigarette with ___ one day at another sundown across the skypiercers
where they do not believe that all popes since st peter, including peter, are illegitimate
Saturday, November 25, 2023
you spawn onto a verdant clearing. in every direction through a vast veil of fog see nothing but the trees in the distance. still air don't conduct sound. it's all muted. no sooner does the silence shoot shivers down your spine than you realize that you are deaf.
tripe-shaped clouds
gordal olives
cute vehicles of destruction
Sunday, November 19, 2023
Sunday, October 15, 2023
Tuesday, July 18, 2023
Monday, July 17, 2023
The desktop clock, which is shaped like a clock tower, has been around for as long as I can remember. Last fall when I last visited here it had malfunctioned, and he asked me to fix it, change the battery.
The clock had all but stopped again; here again, alone, in my parents' home, I search for another AA. The second needle of this paltry clockwork starts to tick again after the replacement, as though his room resumes life.
His desk faces out the eastern window. In the distance is the shore, where the sun or the moon sometimes rises. The view he loved so well. The many photos he took, posted, sent to me via messenger. I have a collection of these photos from throughout the seasons and the years.
Those who rely on the angels a little too often. I disembodied my father from his suffering body if because his faculty to verbalise his interiority had become irretrievable. Now the alternative timelines are as relentless as the toss and turn when the night befalls sleepless upon me. I am become the sea of remorse.
Stone the mirror of the matrices that have spawned my being into his life, as I am unable to rescue him from the confines of life support. Instead curse myself out of it all. To indulge in all the earthly delights that he is deprived of as he lies in hospital bed not unlike I used to the very first days on Earth. In a diaper with my spine against gravity, away from the sun, away from the cypress and the soil. Months since he had tasted anything but the sterile stench and dried disease hour after hour. The pandemic measures still in place; no visitors but the sole nurse, a duty I relieved myself after 30 hours, for my convenience and the livelihood of some unconscionable wage worker.
Life without Music. Delicacies. Soothing fragrances. Without family. His last days were deprived of all that made who he had been. Nobility, mobility, sweet tooth, books, internet, eye for the celestial bodies, the voices of his own family.
My striving for extraordinary life is now reduced to the lay and the vulgar. Like most of you, whom I despise for your indolence and poverty of touching imagination. I am become like you. And here my own narcissism dissolves into self-hatred. Fuck you, I shall collapse onto you, break myself down and drown you in saltwater.
Tuesday, July 11, 2023
Monday, July 3, 2023
Saturday, June 17, 2023
Sunday, April 30, 2023
Thursday, April 13, 2023
Friday, March 24, 2023
Tuesday, February 21, 2023
Monday, October 31, 2022
Monday
And from e to a once the sun-kissed silver is turned to gold under a duvet of cloud ready to fall against the wishes and hopes of foolish prayers still we lay together half conscious on a raft, in mourning w fragments to be found on slow collusion courses. Fences divide, provide vision for touch, in place of embrace. But grace converts divisions into dreamcatchers.
Autumnal flowers in bloom are to be left alone, but exposed and collected as tokens of those to be discarded. This is the first and the final fall for spring, for in the future fall will be fall and nothing but fall.
And though i see you in everything, as any given day, today i am but two, in abstinence from everything but you
Thursday, June 16, 2022
Monday, May 2, 2022
Thursday, March 31, 2022
Sunday, March 27, 2022
Tuesday, March 1, 2022
In moonlight
I am feral in a cage
Feline in waiting
For capture
Find me
Domesticate me
I will maul your favorite parts
Feed your darkness
Maul your favorite parts
Again I'm not dreaming
Tonight
Japanese pictures, Paris Croissant
Cartoon characters
Golden ice caps
Green pyramids
Norwegian winter
Mornings and dull knives
Wednesday, October 6, 2021
Thursday, September 16, 2021
Wednesday, August 25, 2021
Tuesday, August 24, 2021
Monday, July 5, 2021
Monday, June 28, 2021
Tuesday, May 18, 2021
Having fetched your snack from an in-station bakery, you rush outside to catch the tram. A stranger stops you but there’s no shared language between the two. You try but communication seems impossible in the time crunch; you have to go and the helpless face of this stranger is imprinted on you
You wait outside the hipster coffee shop for your turn to enter and order. You’re up next and, while the two customers inside take their time, one of the baristas makes a knowing eye contact with you; you blink in response as if to say “hello”. When you enter, your flat white is already there, and you are touched. Smile at the perfectly heart-shaped foam
Sunday, April 25, 2021
Thursday, January 21, 2021
Friday, September 18, 2020
Sitting at the desk in my old bedroom the next day, staring out the window. Against the blue sky, the crown of a ginkgo tree. I know that tree; neither the ginkgo nor I used to be tall enough for it to be viewed from there — where I used to do homework, or pretended to, and discovered masturbation. Leafless, the grown tree's bare greyish bones tremble in the wintry breeze. A magpie builds a nest. With a twig in its bill, this passerine hops around the trunk’s axis, scans for the correct deposit of her latest find.
I already know the end to this. But I don’t have a clear vision as to how it should get there. My eyes start to wet. As if steam rises from my chest to thaw the eyeballs. With even my vision blurred, I can see where this ends. And I remember...
We had stayed up all night just to chat outside her house. It was in the first week of June, the day I left China for good. So much that still lingered when we eventually did part. What’s heavier than the eyelids?, she quipped. I think I smiled turning away.
The pages in this book are vignetted, as they yellow from the outer edges. There's a glow around the gutter, the dark cleft that binds still blacker than the ink. The pages in this book resemble the shades of your skin. How yours used to beat against mine and softened me. The letters remain as black as I remember them, but appear softer now.
Monday, September 7, 2020
Thursday, August 27, 2020
Tuesday, August 25, 2020
Wednesday, June 10, 2020
Sunday, May 24, 2020
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
Saturday, May 16, 2020
Friday, April 24, 2020
Friday, April 17, 2020
Monday, April 6, 2020
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Saturday, February 29, 2020
No one
Thursday, February 27, 2020
Thursday, February 13, 2020
Tuesday, February 4, 2020
snowy tree cricket
Sunday, February 2, 2020
Saturday, January 25, 2020
2008-2012
Friday, January 24, 2020
Tract under sole
Shells beige they break under
The knowns the ones we've sown
Paintings and sculptures
Littered with your hands
I scream and water fall
Friday, January 17, 2020
Monday, January 13, 2020
Monday, January 6, 2020
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Friday, October 18, 2019
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Monday, July 15, 2019
Saturday, May 25, 2019
Friday, April 12, 2019
Saturday, February 16, 2019
Thursday, February 7, 2019
Sunday, February 3, 2019
Saturday, November 10, 2018
Salivation II
Friday, June 1, 2018
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
Game in which you are surgeon
Listen to the rhythm
Let it guide your melody
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