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#c

orecore spongebob kanye nuclear explosion (historical) makeup tutorial dead children’s corpses (contemporary) whale song love island manhattan recipe cheating spouse complaint tv clip (the office) debut novel reboot movie local car sale weather report (next week) house remodel antique roadshow laughing children (contemporary) dance dance revolution (not yet) laundry how-to ghost haunting (maybe) love these pants you can get them too woodpecker booktok shoegaze band in a bar viral jeans painted plate chinese city curly hair routine biscuits buy my monetization strategy protests wedding dress artist studio hiking shadow person lobster fisherman pierogis stranger flying business class (contemporary) bowling shoes cspan cheese pizza slice truck bed perfume fight flight freeze fawn crowdwork breaking news (contemporary)

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desert dies in halfmoon trenches and language is stolen from men’s fingers, laughing jajajajajahahahahahaha as they read another syphilitic word from the pleasure machine

how I miss the taste of neon mixed with ice on hot summer days

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it’s burned down before and is burning still

blue turns smoke and capitols crack and books die and feet scream and hours whirl past tiktok my beloved and rights what and this happens you know if you step into time and watch too long the flowing space of power

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as a flower in the sun (it would be), hot and dying as bees tickle your insides (better) or is that another nonsense (escape) I want to nonsense because the walls are cold and the escape window is small and I can only hear one voice outside telling the same story day into night

wind is a gift when the truth is far away

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what cybernetic monstrosity do they have for us now

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the new gnosticism is like the old gnosticism—you’re the only one who knows the truth while everyone else is living lies have you heard have you heard have you heard did you know the lies are real but they’re not the ones you think you now know

exterminator

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A CIRCLE IS A PRISON

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jesussaidletthelittlechildren CRY in crying live take breath and there a bird, says the little crying babe as the bird flies past the church to the treeline while in the soil the worms hide from hunger—

wait, what do we call ourselves wiggling and eating soil from our most beloved I think the word has been forgotten not sycophants those abound but what of worms human worms and our voracious appetites? this too is a form of beauty to the indoctrinated begging for a chance in line to become a soil eating worm beloved by the worm commander

I know

I have met the nice nice bourgeois

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it does exist. myself: salad diner hardware store.

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remember PRETENSIONS as though we could aspire not mud but spirit into colorful #corecore beyond this plain day looking through the window at a babe crying bird beneath new trees in the sand outside the church far far away in time space power my perfect ghost

bowling is a gamble in the city of brothers and sisters while grandmas feed other worms not us not human worms following the worm commander as he leads us all to another corpse (contemporary) in the cybernetic circle of stolen language