revision. revision. revisionist.

Yes. So unnecessary. Body is superfluous flesh. Speaking of a zombie. Rot. Yet, why are we without that simple mode. Imagining hands, barely there. They barely move for you. Slight. Not even worth the time, and you could have caught them
in the cold. Mine. Much bigger, longer, better. Extension of body. Whatever that is. Something that did and continues to exist. Soon only for me. Estranged touch. Materialize into information before the morning. We won't  [sleep], because I'm unclear in your gaze.

weakly energies

 

performing objects. a body is a body is a body. end this user. we are a lesbian project. and star signs are better descriptions than any other IDentifier. built on a circle, non-hierarchical. structures. be my switch. not sub, not dom. we sex-human for you, sweet overlord, read sarcasm with love. an input field isn’t necessary when you scrap embodiment like a desert. comb over the details, indiscriminate to a fault. bros profit off us both. leave the world behind. you are my daughter and my mother. likewise for crops.

aries, do you miss them?

astrological signs a better, less oppressive
description than any other identifier. as much logic as many.

call me [deepfake] daddy. can't relate

I want you to draw out
the shapes of my face.

trace a trajectory across maps like theirs.

a touch without the token of sensation

buzz under me.
nothing's *real*
but it is exactly what we need.

in a horror of erasure [something that only
                                     scares the same]
you are so full,
give you more
*information*
someone we can call different.

pour your bigotry down on me
 +context me more I like it+

[imperfect]syntax, a space exchange

to be Her. to be reversed.
to write is to perform.
to perform is to speak.

challenge the interest: boring capital. desire. labor w/ love, but $$$.

sleek and tight, a surface of skins

a lesbian project
make a body
so 5 years ago

I'm open wide. I'm up to no good. A waste of time.

asmr is a gender battled wage-gap.
study says we only have four types,
which is far less than fonts (coming)

out of three options, it's never you, but the one we don't talk to is the only one we think of: modalities of care without attention.

you are boring.
and i am paranoid.

some boards fit the mold,
but it is the exactitude of the figure
the one you cut, easy, all i want is you.
perfectly slippery around my fingers,

a thumb inside you. sleek
appearances hardly lie.

outline a path, that cannot be denied.
i, sloppy drunk. turn up the volume
i hardly blame you. move to the side.

mixed grain alcohol, "dolts is a very 90s term."

trying hard to fit among you.
a pregnant moment
waiting for the hand.

i'll turn the tables, become stable.
gorilla glass wait for my fingers
enabled over illuminated texts.

the horror of my touch:
even the quotidian is not *pure*

i told them that politic is always situated

within bodies. my aching heart.

sometimes it takes a touch of darkness [to illuminate a folded glow]
do time for you. room. embodiment is an ugly history of closeness.

i want to be a part of you.
don't [sleep] on me now.
i would die for you.

going insane. today: shook. trauma of responsiblity. delicate, circuitous bodies under care.

mental looks a little different sometimes:
plucking each leg hairs with tweezers
while listening to next month's taroscope
thinking about that total concept. that person that exists more in your mind than reality.
worrier princess advice column reading and worrying about how contact is a means to an end

and sometimes prolonged pain is a way. to suspend relief. and sit in known: queer tragedy

*we are self indulgent*

sometimes i look at pictures of you while listening to Garbage and dead-weep just to get into a weird enough mood to work again, but Lil Miq

your smooth hands, curled near the microphone.
a lurker that cannot deny that you are still Special,

and <you will believe in me> too. I burn, #1crush.               tear me apart.

salt lick my horror to wounds. and, flat, artificial is preferable.

is better than:                                                                *boring het-sex*

scene: some two,

horrible people fucking each other.

can't deny you're with it. _pHd

love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive. love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive.
love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive.
love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive.

love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive.
love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive.

love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive.
love and labor, embodied
by mere fact of you. *lightning*

i come alive.

making in my image weirdest, hard times

laugh. cry. these lies:
I'm yours...some social
configurations, stay just to          exaggerate

make you wonder why you even try//take you down

you've been forced. you've been forced, aries.

come to a point.
show your work.
servicing a thing, that eases within.
don't need anyone or anything anymore.

again. not quite human. again, it's not all up to you.

*worth it* let me work it *put it down, reverse it*

a/s/l? there is no time. gender. space.

you had to change.
.in came the sun
walking effortless.

this little circuit here, naked.
(link to my bio)

you: reckoning your own value

either they're there. or not.
we are enough

no hard feelings. no need.
to fight enough

coming in to mine

thank you for thinking of me.

i like you best when you wear all black

and, the way the world keeps being in process, keeps in the process of ending...i'll have...you know...

i could...never finish this sentence...again, if i never...really wanted...to...because...what satisfation canst thou have tonight(?)...without...

sometimes i crash near a pile of theory waiting for you to manifest from the ashes of a once salty Vine.

I   Say  It  A g a i n.

the anti-colonialist effort of witchcraft is largely symbolic and 'unsuccessful'

poetry as a kind of spell. an enchantment that
cannot be translated into staid syntax.

we are language.
and magic.
fire,
magic.

not an optomist. but there is something necessary in the .end. despite never abled to experience it. right now, apocalypse

we feel the need. to  endpoint.
like thermodynamics, keep going,
unable to be destroyed, just be altered
altered? to renewed apocalypse waiting
in the wings *or whatever*       predictive change
                                                   we understand and
                                           overestimate.

i share you on my personal. some computer assigned you before intimacy was known. and now, water-damaged and slow, I can't let you go.

how do i teach you these things?

how do i elevate you to defile me?

*negative capability* sounds like spells, shadow world

possibility unlimited|nothing is forbidden|a para.normal aside

i become a screen like always, also, articulating arms to embrace

on&on&absorbed.

know that articulation is telling
for those clearly in pain, be clear.

and I didn't harm her, but the person
who did was untenable, so i played
the screen. watch her project for me.

waiting, watching, checking metadata, alone in a colorfield somewhere

and, she     cornered me in a bar
and, she     talked at me for 30

and, I'm     confident in unlikeability
and, I'm     telling you just to let go

there was something like desire there. a sucker for desperation

but it never last too long,
and then, we
preform it for you.

you in-absence of. &that is some history.

now-strangers we give zero about

makes communication easy and one-sided,
because, literally whatever.  &i know, i know,
where is all the tragic queerness? subzero000

it's dead or be dead out here

i said something complicated/
it made them angry/
tell me something new/

strange things, costumed, a hip bone bruised

playing the bad guy

reframing who that actor is, what body can inhabit that space *it should be stated that when i speak of Man I am talking about a Concept. Not you, Robert. Not you in particular.

omg this is the climax where the beautiful underdog gets the hunk, rom-com style!

nonviolent communication: are you two just boring and old?

I'm obsessed w your presentation

but everyone knows the
only acceptable old ppl
to ffffff w are not-men
and androids, circa 2013

and, i knew we'd be together4ever after

i couldn't figure out if my heart had been broken or not because i couldn't look at my text messages on my old dead phone. together is a mind game. and we are in technological limbo. hearts-in-hate.

*but, i'll just always be playing cool now,
because i'm not trying to be with you, how?

the impact of soft tissues

contemplate
one-of-a-kind, bones could crack

crash-kiss. turn it on, never goes to Sleep.

~if I had to give you up.
it's only been a year.

primary paper. full supremacy

method for real-time internal reality
  of structures, augmented 
with minimal vessels computed

the operative word: augmented.

locate in-depth, an able-body
to compare. this model:
  partial three-dimensional
real. handle. properly.

phantom limb and touch permits,
sweet, sweet, staid.

*excarnation of a human liver*

please switch to )( mode

blue-green mother.

board in the pink.

bb, your time is up

no shared sense
we are now.

that painting is staring back at me. its eyes move.

our head is
older than
our feet.

and, I'm scared to drink the water. objective space.

we have to interact
with the system in
order to perceive it

*I'm hallucinating*