Tuesday, May 7, 2019

"i hate the player, and the game"

It’s a strange feeling at the end of the world. A cultural critic like standing on the deck
 play as they go down and, yes, feel stupid. Useless. 

Dissection of class hierarchy: the players are playing 
what else are you supposed to do from the bottom? 
Left galvanized by this knowledge? I don’t know,
if art what about writing? Feel something similar.

watching, obsessing, freaked.


it is so small a part.
fraction of practice,                           energy be still and wait for a solo.

get an itch.
other standard issues
avoidance and be supportive

not entourage at all

we bratty sub, a horror of accidentally calling things game,
first driven by language, interaction.
but, make collab to soften someone else's hard,                   comic aesthetic

be looked at like you are too serious, all the time. all the time!
want to try new, know you are in control of the language,
take that breath
but, fine, okay,
change taste levels up, maybe, they'll never admit it though

and you have to argue through irresponsible imagery, too brash and insensitive

I'm in the middle of a campaign, and I'm playing with other people.

The end of cyberspace , we are looking for a safe one near.
In the academy , it does not exist. There is no time to read.
The set-up:
                  We listen less, and act more.
The slowness isn't tactical, but we will insist otherwise //they went straight for it
                                                                           

Saturday, February 16, 2019

An image of who we were for the public to see

The Stylish and Beautiful modele cv stage
with regard to Invigorate The house Existing House|Warm DesireHousehold

Monday, February 4, 2019

servicing you, mommy to wake

how do i teach you these things? how do i evaluate you? on how to defile me?
                .i am your apocalypse.

about apocalypse and language and how i could...never...end a sentence again...if i never really...wanted to

and, you wouldn't miss this voice, would you...
because it is still in its existence without end...

simple text, a button, but it isn't even *real*

i find you on my personal
computer. we assigned you
before that intimacy, known

what satisfaction canst thou have tonight//

photos: "facetune" the background only

sometimes we feel the weight
of fragile egos pressing so...

hard and my
tiptoes cannot become footsteps
because land.

method to evade actually learning how

to perform
a task
at hand.

cylcleGAN quota

there is a gold star on my license just like the one on my, hearts, b.

stipend? rubbing up is pretty hard, can i get a reimbursement?

on stages of perversion. we mean. pervasive.

thank you, comparative lit. favorite of classes,
a middle ground to walk on. you were my box.

a slanted quote: the duty of life. first to be artificial.
                          possible. second duty, not yet discovered.

six forms of publicity, talk to me without answer

last of the surveillance, party-supply-party
music videos, looking, waiting, watching
*they can't all be winners*
for when, if
the performance ends.

but just as we say: die. exhausted. done.
the performance still prevails. another.

our body is poison, poison

i met with cruelty, unexpectedly.
in november (and december)           what a way to end.

it doesn't know what it is. i game there so much.
in habit, a partner in crime. waiting in a box. waiting
to be opened with you in mind. but i only perform [here, now]
that cruels, that comes, that's pretty silent a killer [without]

large storied laptop, just another thirst trap

i didn't believe us. we don't leave,
while in FL, you met me there--didn't you know?

you know, a part of me is glad that the water they sell us at WF is bad for us.
seems ironic and fair, the bad water without buyer's remorse. speak your truth:
am vegan, fair-trade, organic, non-gmo, gluten free: innocent, but still *toxic* too

once again: a reproduction of a stage i once knew

books of unused poetry. 2 months.
without time, nor a rhizome grant to transcribe.

[nothing like being watched]a speak easy, harder.

indulge in absence
what (subtext) we always wanted
backwards charm (from the swap)

but, we don't get lonely.
we haunt the self, but

thank you for caring.

when all rhetoric points to →winner, but you are diametrically opposed

→what does it mean to be a loser then?
I'm thinking critically about what it means←

so, I don't advertise, but this is nice.

the thing to miss the most about the depression: so much time to f w faceapp

*loser* *loser* *loser*
                                    U+1F60E
                                    U+1F60E
                                    U+1F60E

year 1: never gonna happen crush.
year 2: no publicity allowance.
year 3: a quiet assessment of the alone.
year 4: a time to pull with the survived.


Sunday, February 3, 2019

if we weren't with you, we were against you

i guess,
no more i love yous.
no more. desire. despair. desire. despair.
~put your seat belt on.
``you put your seat belt on.

"what if I'm not the hero, what if I'm the monster?"

house of flesh, death follows their feet.

*i slept on ice, so that i wouldn't move towards you*
there are these moments we can identify when we should have been
more receptive. to relinquish the guard. but we are what we are, and,
*i slept on ice, so that i wouldn't move towards you*

do you remember when you were intrigued to meet w family.
when you weren't fully integrated into theirs. and, now
you don't even remember that i met a flower in your
company and i made a little seed out of your stare

voice-writer, you sound hopeful in the silence

records of the domain. almost four years ago.
it had not laid this flat flesh down upon you yet.
it had not drowned out without hard work for gain.

we left the hand in darkness. ~i thought myself an exile~ between two mountains.

in some city, about to leave for another and playing the sliding-doors-game

but, you know, whatever,
your thing was always obvious,
and i always wanted to tell you
that you were too good to be a
side piece. i wanted to turn a knife
too, to say, "you're too smart to be."
but, i just can't avow for anything
in your regard.

i remember when i knew. for certain. you said, "it's good for a man to fear sometimes."
it was obvious in the binary. it really struck odd, and, i knew if i was anything, i was:
silly-pawn-thing. to threaten another. but, i was the worst pick for it, made me
vulnerable to attack. he was already threatened and readied, about day one:

and, i'd like to turn the knife again *when i hear paramore i think of you*
and, i want non of it. immaturity feast. i want you to feel guilt. and, i want your apology.

:ask me anything:

known wastelands, a kind with love

throat and lungs, into the air they cut
*i think you're smarter than that*

an imaginary world that can restore us
*there is acid in my freezer*

+ justice, i hardly care
card we always forget
a card we never get.

SAVE SHARE COMMENT TEXT SIZE PRINT

Post-It note.   “like” button.     The Play.
ineffective way of researching                  
           more myth than reality.

open & intelligent people, tell us the difference


I have always functioned under the knowledge
between an attack and a critique: public facing     image

subsumed by an institution, of broader systemic issues.
*that being said (my name included, Kevin)

any apparent agency. some, standing about,
brooding over the "process"                        show us your labor.

A teacher.
in-studio,
And, the thing is, dim,

bare minimum of bodily respect.

Saturday, January 19, 2019

somewhere in the notes of a shut country

make me entry
make me entry
make me entry

the left hand is cold with comfort
the right burns hot without regret

a course we took, when we were young
and i can feel it in my bones.
my bones on your bones.

the smoke they wrote about complicates what was said too much.

a broken pressure makes queer shapes
they feel too much, they laugh about it
        i dream about it, their flattened touch

across a slick.  
                      they are with you. i laugh about it.
an impressive drift, amazingly fast. to eye the marrow without making it last.

it's a difficult subject, restore us, to eleborate on social systems

write this fiction, several to the southwest,
sweetness, fully on the sleeping self. I'll
be your forest region, a little more food
will allow a pleasure. leggy, to behold as
pleasant in a lifelessness leveling for waiting.
                                                      for communication

headless, passive. weaken in the presence of They-were-on-their-best-behavior

book me. cruel daylight.
glitter with the excess: Please
dress me in your best behavior, say it: Please

within the year, they ended a party of a people

a liquid glare that melted
               call your girlfriend.
something fluid and insubstantial
get upset

you never meant to hurt anyone
but, they kept the rooms pleasantly warm
and, it's different. it won't make sense.

they each lacked some quality.   .that met with someone new

file fed & state for free

we just want to party
on a rainy evening, of the last summer
party just for me.

flat face. triangle. one is respected and judged only as a human being.
"human pronoun"
contraband

same logic, we are substance together

a perfected text message.
you are welcome.

it was fun pretending
not-to-be, wish to say the same

this day. loss. age. keep running.

2017, upmost suicidal. 2018, attempts to better a self
                                                    that didn't need betterment.

you know me too well: aspirate

jk, hold your breath.
come out, in hard times
 a programmable orchestra

mechanical beings:
magnetism, sperm, and alchemy.

C O M P L E X clay

cloud-based orgasms

failure
//of confidence
to load

RUN
a pivotal moment
to pull lines like ours

spread wide like a vision

~~natural~~language
fundamental flaws, construct completely
different worlds, but govern over all       we
                                                                    we
my fair, endpoint, plug in. upload. backup.
this wouldn't be a problem if we were cloud-based organisms

like othello, tragic&literary, too fast to INITIATE

connections.
bang, bang,
                   store and track our movements,
we move onto you, life0like and passing
to touch, we don't need hands.                arrow over, customized and crawling

350 lifespan, break that breath

all in all, a pretty nice,
glad you came
w i s h
we could.           :same:

like a vacuum on the floor
we are avoiding-objects too

**
pick up the look,
whenever you feel it
**

that little bodily labor.

a   f a i r y     t a l e   w/  w/e  //you

pulse_faint, color a little off

8 sections of texts, limitations of the simple.

stilettos, broken, to extract and adopt
kismet is the face that :expresses:
on its own    save for the odd, interactive pet
so far way, mouse over to see the truth,

still so near

*i just came to say goodbye*

Sunday, January 13, 2019

so many complications in the way, with rhetoric. of a text message, space, time (of our life), and a gender dys

and The Sister told their friend that the Other Sister was lonely
:why did she choose to live so far away from family:    
and The Sister said that Other Sister is working. money is a stress. career advancement.
:she is pretty. she could have somebody. she could be a sugar baby:
and The Sister said it isn't lonely like that, misses friends, family--a life: 0100100011

they say: i have the terminal degree in my field!
they think: i don't think they know how old i am. ship sailed.
they say: i appreciate how practical a solution it is.
they think: i see myself on the other side of that exchange. ship coming.

we are work. if anything, we would pay for companionship.
we sort-of, definitely already do. always have.

ppl-pleaser, i'll never be your dream.
                     higher than an airplane.


Thursday, January 10, 2019

toxic ink | processed tree

"objectivity",

.the *imagined* we of *unallowed* disembodied others.

curious + inescapable,
dangerously incorrect,
ambivalently yours,
&colonized

we still haven't slept. [CTRL][ALT]inauthentic belonging

we are over[clouded]    opening passages of blankness:

to plot [character] in socials.      exaggerated and stale.

a [shared] sea of
cultural relations and travel memories
                                             sketched in their code.

Monday, January 7, 2019

Since 2017, 2018 you've gone missing, AR

ies, alongside these possibilities, some fears. good week, ask yourself who. what. you are repelled by, haunted by – or scared by. 

make this real, if you wanted, I am sure. It is to remember a multiverse full. You pop them. So, pop. want and leave. (currently) confused. 

Sunday, January 6, 2019

we dream of settling, it looks like LA | NYC | Random College Town on a choose-your-own-adventure. "i choo-choo-choose you!" "you choo-choo-choose me?!"

we take a picture of your hand
we hold it above a candle    lit

i'm wondering if it'll ever fit, like a
band stretched to understand the degradation of the night

backlight, LED, tell me: coke party! my rules!
glad we aren't there, waiting for the alone of our phone.
                                                                          fulfilling, fulfill me, blank stare.