also the person…

also the person on the suicide line was trying to end the call by being like, “ok, so i think you should watch a movie and go to sleep. going to sleep at 10:30 is totally ok!”

and i was like, “o….k….? do you have movie recommendations?”

and they were like, “what kind of movies do you watch?

and i was like, “i dunno? when i’m like this stupid comedies like ‘wayne’s world’ and ‘school of rock’?”

and they were like, “ok. what about. have you heard of ‘the golden child?'”


youuu aaareee the toughest bitch i knowwwww
and in the dark we’ll sing
to find
the light
and in the dark we’ll sing
to start
a fight

i have been taken over by nihilist thieves and a body that doesn’t want to work anymore.
they cut all of the strings
that make body appendages flex and relax
except the neural sort
and are left with what

we hate us.

how to build with the driest sand.

they told me that they don’t believe in ghosts
but they do believe in energy
and it’s transmission from objects
that souls might just be fields of electricity

and that feels right
or absent

what if my energy has been transmitted
before organic death.

onto what? where would it go?

someone tell me what to do
because my head is buried in a foxhole
and this isn’t the kind of shelter i was thinking of

if nothing changes
what do i make of the contradiction that nothing stays the same?
how could i fear cycles or temporality or death
at the same time dread this fixed consistency

i don’t even get to be in control of my body’s response to decay

and yet people move forward.
people find and create movement to follow or steer.

am i just ungrateful
am i bad–
a child that lost a puppy
openly weeping at a dead dream.

i want to drink death down

i want to be fall down dead drunk

we’re not victims of our bodies, we’re on the receiving end of society

these stupid fucking buildings.
i wish i could cut a hole in the double glass doors, press my lips to it and blow, a giant steel and concrete glass ocarina. it would sound like a whale about to die, slain by the hand of man, all that material just overwhelmed and shuddering at the knowledge of its intended use.
candles and cities.
ready for work.
it remembers it’s other life as mud and dirt argiculture and swamp cultivations and mossery. put your ear up to the hole and it will whisper about it’s other lives.

i need loneliness as much as togetherness.

i don’t think we’re friends anymore?

isn’t it funny how everyone thinks everything is about themselves.

i’m almost glad.

is it an indicator of guilt?

can you take photos of the dark with a pinhole exposure

“We’ve been given a neutral idea of friendship, understood as a pure affection with no consequences. But all affinity is affinity within a common truth. Every encounter is an encounter within a common affirmation, even the affirmation of destruction. No bonds are innocent in an age when holding onto something and refusing to let go usually leads to unemployment, where you have to lie to work, and you have to keep on working in order to continue lying. People who swear by quantum physics and pursue its consequences in all domains are no less bound politically than comrades fighting against a multinational agribusiness. They will all be led, sooner or later, to defection and to combat.”