Woken up too early and continuing my dreaming.
A vicious feasting – carrion impulses, a straining and collapsing, a frightening point, a sharpening of views, so strained and so forceful, a straight-laced disciple.
But nothing’s of significance, nothing is necessary, pictures are fallacies, moments of treachery, drawing on our smiles, the faking of everything, time will come when time’s undone, hide ourselves, shit of our souls, decomposing bags of bone.
And you’re so welcome, and so faithful, so perfect, and so fucking everything. Empty bottles strike out broken prose while painting on a certain majesty, notes taken underground, I play the guillotine. Poetry pulled from banality.
