why should making something outside of ourselves justify our existence?
"I now embrace eternity, because this is far from over!"
why should we be worth any more than dirt? aren't we of dirt? gravity is real, because we can measure and predict it. the soul isn't real, because we can't weigh it. how is the soul different from gravity? aren't i alive?
made in the image of our creator which makes us creators, right? which makes us the creator, right? is that not enough? why can't we stop there? instead, i have to make ten thousand tiny oil paintings, the size of a business card. business cards. for whom?
who is the making for? besides them, i mean. of course, i mean. them. making what for what? does it even matter? is it even matter? how is that is it that
making for whom? i might ask. it's not for them, whoever they are. it's not for anyone else. is masturbation? where does masturbation fall on the spectrum in relation to chocolate, or umami, or fucking, or is that redundant? making something? does the form of the offering matter? does it need to be flammable? does it need to be matter? does it need to matter? does it need matter? can it be an idea, an imagination? does the form of the making matter? does it need to burn?
i only ask questions, because i have no answers. i want no answers. if you give me answers, i'll vote against my own interests. and somebody will kill you
is erasing something just like writing in reverse? erasement is a kind of flagellation. throw that shit out. throw that whip out. on your back. flail, flay, and favor, yes
"A traveller upon the sea sings 'It's a sailor's life for me!'"
this is the ninth gate
the swallow impulse is what rhythm is built on. forget about the heart. it's the gulp towards which we must seek. the swallow impulse is to remind us that we must feed the beast. we must feed the ourobouros
warning: this prose contains lashing flights. that's rhythm. baby. that's life. that's light. where does chocolate fall on the spectrum in relationship to the rainbow? a lightning bolt?
this is not something outside of myself. this is myself. this is inside my self. in sides, my self. this is myself inside out
why is puking so embarrassing? everybody pukes. i just puked inside my mouth. shitting, puking, pissing, spitting, exhaling, it's all an erasure. it's all a double negative
why would it be a nightmare to dream of choking with dirt? ashes to ashes works both ways, doesn't it?
with this earth, i thee wed. from whence to hence, and back again again
a snow wolf made of dirt. a dirt wolf. ping pong eyes, dildo nose, turkey wishbone arms. dirt wolf has dirt where their mouth could have been. who made snow dirt wolf? does it matter? does it fall?
the soul falls, is how we know it's real. it makes way for gravity. its weight is the opposite of gravy. the soul makes itself, so the self can make the soul
the soul. gravity. chocolate. umami. oil paintings. business cards. matter. lightning. nightmare. kill. whip. lash. thunder. puke. snow. dirt. rainbow. all of these. outside, wanting to come in. inside, needing to get out. our existence. inside and outside the gate
everything is a lie. everything is a tell. everything is everywhere. everywhere sings
"When all that's left is sea and sun, a lonely voice says 'All's not done!'"