What obstructs a journey inward? You thought the tapes would lead you out. Under copper light (the light that failed) demagnetized. Don't forget that he smashed your guitar with friends under influence of video. Don't forget the idols rotting in decayed mansions. "That house is your body and soon will be razed; we need the land for..." Eucalyptus trees line the gates of the plaza. Skeletons hang from the street lamps.
The kids invented "new typography" to find a language that could speak to them. The course was set, no lines were needed. "Finish them off. All in glass bottles (forgotten Delta) Concentrate on ash SEOX, SEUX, SIXT.
A problem of absence / wish fulfillment
I almost asked a few times, when feeling spiteful
"If you hate yourself so much why did you reproduce?"
WHITE INK I
"...there was no sound."
the end of time was: NO SOUND. I had NO FRIENDS I would benefit from no other kids I had no dreams*
there was a time there was a future I was a kid I had a fever (rewind)
In the grocery store with my mom and there were no friends the end of time was
End of time, yeah. No friends.
*amibien - zoldipem tartrate
WHITE INK II
Fossilized / engaged in fanciness / blasted with Citron
All hopefulness recedes. Amber-colored eras: the streets were paved with text. "Bright Worlds" american-express.
Every Mirror Contains a Clue
To the elements contained inside a room
Circle the fortress with glass wings free the prisoners let all bells ring through the first night of spring, they reverberate No Private Space. (nothing to contemplate)
All vapors condensed into an italic fog. Consider a dry stretch of weeds (HWY embankment) lost jewels outside Camden in the media age.
Quick wet textured by youth growth. I was shaped like a comma they made designs on my flesh tiny cylindrical slim kid. Always was asked
Same
:
All I see is a sea of faces smirking at me in the front row and lock into this death-stare with a girl who just stands there like "what the fuck" I'm attempting telepathy. "I don't need you" is all I wanted to say.
All I have to tie my liquid formless spirit to this world is a neighborhood that I have never lived in. Houses lit from within at dusk. I was encrypted - in the flesh, out of the damp red chaos of pre birth fever and wide gas-blue landscape. I was beaten and cursed by angels who forced me to jack them off. I wore a white glove. They laughed at me so I screamed in their faces and the next thing I know...
Providence
Distance music: the sheep and white thorn and black blood gathering at the lips of the wound. I jumped out of the van with a head full of vulgarities I wanted to carve into the skin of the "true prince." I saw the surface of the water from a bridge. I saw the sun refracted through sprinklers and cast-iron gate post. I wore headphones and just kept walking. I found my way to the warehouse by twilight.
/// STREAM
I was the corpse that spiraled out into phantom hallways, and I just wanted to go home when I needed to piss I'd cry all the cars still drive themselves I'm sad all the time even the incense my sweet mom I was so young Bob Dylan record / SY poster I was home when land was still pale and wet before "the horror" (revisited) I was asked to leave and they said I was a disruption.
"Send me home," I said
Pattismithhorses/HYDRACODONE APAP/ Soccer
Health class in a hot trailer. I was asked to leave when I was caught making out with CPR guides.
Whatever I got I took and only a few times and not in passing but with slow calculation and desperate phrasing. I wanted everything to pause and to be left elevated for a moment, then feel the crashing of minutes and chords / PRODUCTION. I wanted to know. I needed something changed. Like wet grass I needed Cyprus, ecstatic, loose.
I KRIED for weeks afterward. Nothing hurt as bad as everything at once. TWIN BED. But one only lived a day and I specifically remember the way that day was cruelly saturated with light and the view of the sunset from the hospital was serious and clear and I felt so bad for my sister and my parents. My neighborhood canceled me after nine signal lights / vacant house up the street still looks the same and smells like joints and software. And the office: windows painted over. Needed constant access to joints between younger lips being sucked. Make the drone eternal (this time) guitars tune themselves on underexposed film. What made that era bearable? Was it Ritalin and collage or eating out on Wednesday nights? Sometimes a map of the truth only leads you downstairs and I'd yell "Amber" over the constant hum of decomposition and fantasize about ghosts from the civil war until I'd hallucinate a grey spectral pulse in the darkness.
If ghosts are lonely they need only to rest among lilac. "Synth Valley" baby's breath and arrange ceramic. These are catalogs of MACRO microcastle green and black spent so much time developing interesting handwriting. Often, sounds overwhelm the songs they were meant to make. "the church is being stripped", Church of the Outcast. It was sad to see them disappear into either. Camouflaging lust and hate as subculture. If I carve its initials into my arm it must be real. This time, at least, nothing ever changed.
Insects: (fireflies)
We discussed how they live to fuck and die. How cute. Joseph Conrad / Solid Oak / Sunday in Garage Afternoon Horror. MADE GIFTS FROM FOAM! When You spraypaint it, it melts oddly SMASHED all my matchbox cars. My cousin inspired this. Listen to Butthole Surfers in this bedroom years and years ago. Years and years ago.
"I tried to be honest but my face would not let me."
- WASPS
EX; Dreamlife of Wasp
Sugar coated the walls like plaque and there was danger in combining ambient music and short walks from the library to abandoned house to read abandoned letters to and from abandoned people. A correspondence that made me think of "Action".
"The days were long..." (repeat infinite times)
Some explosions of light are cuter than others. Kid's faces. Catalyst.
Streaming audio form the databanks / the crystal pulse after sequence of glass blue scale / grayscale. Short what loosened all those threads under the street and encode the skateboards that fall down sewer drains. We climbed down there once and it smelled like fireworks and you squeezed the hands around your neck and looked up with glass holes. These paper and burnt wood
Smell all lacked / evoked at will.
Western Section:
I pulled him out of water and made the smoke and heat ascend.
Don't become creative, enough light already.
Hanging out in lobbies with gum on my post. Spearmint (vector)
Become comfortable with the fact that your body will never fuse with another. Mass Comm. Words are axes and I am oblivious to the fact. Although sedentary, although anything not moving is privileged and there is now life where there was cold shit glued to walls. We hung some posters and ashed on the floor.
He should not be allowed to rolex flair compact. Afternoon thunderstorms often blur the ballpoint tempest. WHITE OUT WHITE OUT template. Of a motion to flight from previously grounded (from winter's mouth) who sold his clothes at fistfight warehouse.
RECENTLY encrypted in the flesh outside the senses. Contained within them.
Constantly blossoming VIDEOROSE // Ink. Solidarity.
City breeding on farmland, a huge roach hidden enclosed by tin shake recorded sounds of insects on dance record* *
Force the Healing Process.
Now is your chance! -
Quit Smoking! Cease Night Sweat!
Sweet night spent still lift sleeps stretched over set.
You are halcyon magnetic.
Sometimes demonic and so Carcrash Sept. (an awkwardness)
"I always fantasized about not showing up."
** B-52's - Wild Plant, Warner Bros. Records, 1980.
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