Friday, 12 April 2013


New Aesthetics

Lacking a baroque aesthetics of biZarre damage propelled by hardcore spasms of chromosomes in silent procession of 3am nights drigged and anonymous self savage codes the empty words of command are silent but none the less deadly under discrete linguistic moments where mortal loss is pronounced from Minarets and all but eyes are covered by black fabric we recognise hell as the spying self the journey thru the black anus to the underworld worthless outside the heat of passion violence can do nothing to the paradox of dying just to die is always lethal clenched teeth a vicious antidote for boredom which is less than tedium or mundanely reduced to immobility half asleep in broad daylight time under notorious sonic effects I bring the noise of power as volume of complaint into full affect where the overdose is always fateful indifferent to truth or lies as to whether this dreadful day shatters or shivers uncontrollable with fear let us free our love from being ourselves sensation is a disease that is alienated from me I am numb with the night that has fallen across my evasions full of being ourselves we were something else all together more ignorant of the methods of possessing the self or the other/I imagine that I was born that way unable to connect but I lived intensely with nobility and purity with an intelligence that was an errant fiction of the surface of my days a dead interval between life and living again an anxiety that conceals and then conceals itself/Come to my affection said the mother but nothing prompted me to risk it/an eternal hesitation that has dominated my life/knowing that nothing is worth our while not trying to be sensual or perhaps I have no dream but you and you again/the maternal lack but let the moment pass worn thin and gaunt by arrogant indifference/A hunger that must go unsatisfied/

1 comment:

Russell Duffy said...

Elvis is in the building.