ID. I’ve been ignoring the obvious. No, not ignoring. Vampires in the
morning. But obfuscating again. Disguises.
Layers. So who ordered the…oh,
here we go! Yoga. Not quite what you
think but it is. Always in the morning. Not always.
Just always at my worst in the morning.
Though I suppose I’m also at my worst throughout the day and at
night. Different shades of shit. Can’t lose focus here on the central
idea. More than idea. He wants to be the one who always brings a…. this is the lasting image. Again and again. Two ponies.
Anticipation through the door. Pit
of rot inside of me. This particular bouquet. Ambergris.
Endangered species. This would be
grand titular. Grand guignol. No, stop trying to run from this. Adoration is the word you most commonly used
before. Underneath. So delightful. Awful word.
Needing to stretch, to break. Colors. Pastels.
Fuck, can’t think straight. Pastels,
of course merging with. Dark. Tones. See everything through the glass, plastic. Zeroes and ones. Never been a big denim fan. Or have i?
the more I learn the less I want to know. See, can be more playful in this particular
edition because it’s all about something so nothing and yet so everything. Hahaha, more bullshit. But still somehow it works right? Paired with simplicity. And someone else advising not to use that particular. Followed by laughter. So direct.
Such is that world. Why is there nothing
others can do that I can’t do? So
useless. All the struggle. All the attempts. All the time wasted. For something that doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters. Great when straight. Ambergris again. This particular bouquet. Is everything. When passing by. From a distance. Then the other day, something bitter but that’s
not quite the right word. What’s the good
type? I know there is something. So busy, everyone screaming, final look. Of course things had to be mixed. But there was nothing bad there. Poison would seep out from me, from my interior
rot. Eclipsed on the inside. How stupid. I am rot.
Nothing worthwhile within me. All
the things we desperately cling to feel so pointless.
Oh please let today be
the day! And then tomorrow I will be praying for the same thing. No sense of tomorrow in the moment. Finding nourishment
at the very sight of. Layers of
hell. Dreaming of walking. Dreaming of doors. Dim lights.
Glancing over. Hoping. Oh please let today be the day. I’m awful.
Awful.
Yes, competing
now. Duologies. Scattering.
Need to get something out. Keep with
the same theme though. Resonance. Don’t try to hide. This is all glorious surface. Hence the wheels. Wheels in the morning. Spells.
Closest approximation to anything is summer in winter. Walking on water. After the next one. Returned.
And glory. Pastels again. Everything over grey. Impossible to avert. These are all chemicals. That is something very important to
remember. It’s not not chemical. Is it all chemical. Primitive.
Ah, just look right there through the rich numerical prism. Plastic again. Or glass.
Something I’m not sure. Where we’re
made all illusory except for the way we wish to present…the falsity… and
sometimes of great assistance in ridding oneself, myself…a representation of
reality. And right there, through: just
because I doesn’t mean I’m. adds up. 100, 100, 100. Pretty sure most. Can’t complete anything at this point. But everything is just…can’t think of the
word. Illusion not quite right. More like
delusion but there’s something else I’m trying to grasp on to. Beautiful.
Beautiful. Said it before and say
it again. I’m trying to make this one
joyous but I can’t seem to manage because inside I am so deeply ugly. Fuck, you see what happens. I’m trying to just express something that
should be like…the approximation of one of my favorite Ariadna albums (always obfuscating),
something like that, see how direct I am being.
There should just be sugar and sun and lovely color. Be patient.
Blood. Leather, remember the
leather. Multiple times leather. Every morning something now. Practicing the position. Dancing, hair up. Pressure.
Inches apart. Smile slow to
appear. Sometimes straight down. I am a piece of shit. This presentation is, don’t you understand? Playing to strengths. Playing to tastes. Of course noticeable. Does it actually mean anything. No, but it doesn’t need to. That’s the very point of it. The essence of it. Colors, shades. Ambergris.
Encapsulating all of this. The final
days of your (my) relevance. Never really
had any to begin with. recapturing. No, nothing to capture. How many years? Lucky numbers. God, nothing matters. But still, in that moment, aren’t you smiling? Aren’t you taken? So meaningless, chemicals. And then you ascribe something. Just focus on that…meaninglessness and the
unbridled delight of it all. You are (I
am) so sad and empty. Eyes moving
over. Invitations to sin. Reveling in sin. In love with sin. Little death.
Touch. Combination of senses,
combination of sensations. Leather. Texture.
Pastels. The colors. Ambergris.
Particular bouquet. Adoration. Step lively.
And in the morning a different one each time, vampires in the
morning. Denier. So sweet.
Adoration. Combination of everything
perfume. Seam. Even in that moment where everything was utter
foul chaos, such a direct look, all business, so businesslike, so lovely. Of course I think as my head goes light, how
utterly proper. Different bouquet. Normally so terrible but no, not with
you. Remembering now how I wanted to drown. Subsumed.
And I’ve become so cautious. So bereft
of anything…. Looking right at me. This will all go away. As it should.
And then that hidden moment. Thoughts spilling over, thoughts clouding
over, doubling over. Trying to fit it
all into one singular space. Name on
lips. Remember every look in one single
moment. All chemical, all meaningless. Silly, lack of meaning is the very
point. Is it so much effort or is it
effortless? Inspiration. The center of everything. Entry, look over, contact, smile, rush,
lovely, closer contact, stronger rush, meaningless, beautiful, quick and die, sweetest
sin.
