Everything is irritatingly misplaced. Two old ladies talking behind me in the bus about weather. How it is so warm today, how little green things are appearing, tulips and things like that. Aroma of something burned but I felt empathy and warmth in their worn out fragile voices which I liked. I felt sun through the glass. Mig.groc. and chewable tablets reads on the side of something.
Sounds as chanting this world. Christ is crisis. Chanting in crisis. Chanting an end.
Call it divine, call it repetition of the name, repetition of the sound, call it repetition of the act, the same movement, the same fear and hate in the call, do not expect the same, expect the worst, do not expect the sane, expect lunacy, expect your narrowest nightmare corridor with mass of people in it with you unable to breathe, with them and their smells unwashed. Call it hypothetical trust, blind hypothetical trust, insane hypothetical belief, expect the unseen, the unknown purity command, fury, need to make the idea of purity happen in black. See the flag, see the scarfs, see the eyes. Nothing will turn their heads around from this mission. Nothing. Crisis is in the not negotiable, in the smallest space, in the smallest breaths inhaled, in passing out with the rest.
ThreatExpect the crisis, threatExpect the hurt, threatExpect the ill, it will come, it will be a terrorist, call it a terrorist, call it an organizationTerrrrrrrrroriiiiiist, Terrrrrrrrrrrroriiiiist! It will be an explosion, a blast. Call it what you will, call it fear, terror, tyranny, call it many of who were hurt, many of those who are dead. Call it your blind heart, call it the answer of the kind heart.
It is not a comical POW. It is not a comical savage. It is the hidden savage of Christ, the one you deny, the one you do not want to acknowledge, because it is in you, in your religion. Smell of the divine captivated, taken, imprisoned. Moral imperative making monsters, sounds of this world, being a monster in an acceptable way, the same way as chanting righteousness, justice, superiority. Us and them, heaven and threat, Paradise of safety and Hell for the uncovered. Those who did what they had to do. Those who accomplish God’s plan to save what there is for us to be saved, next to nothing. Standing next to nothing, next to a plan of salvation drawn onto ground.
Running down the stairs making heck of a noise of some wild herd running that should be outside making what it makes. Feet hitting the stairs with sneakers, high heels, cowboy boots, rubber boots, sandals, party shoes, furry winter boots showing toes hitting the stairs like injury in their minds, falling down about to happen, deliberately making irritating loudness. Their feet like they were to fall off, dance that makes music of its own. Go crazy, you childish. Making the sound that you do. lose mind. it is a weight of worry
barely keeping balance in a hurry. That noise, take it: continue the monstrous whirl. I want to be in it on the screaming in body of sound. And scream myself, because I’m unable to move myself. I can be appalled by them and stand by uncontrollable horror of youth. Time accused of ruining youth. What it is to ruin? What is there to spoil. What is to worry and why.
Run faster, the stairs end at some point, and you come to the door, sunlight flickers on wet grass. Go through with this in clean up, after, say abomination and brake, shout it over those sounds of running feet. Audio of some kind of despair. Shoes on the table, love on the table, neighbors, me observing, especially me, living on the table wearing shoes, only shoes. Running in hey after having looked at it with heavy breath.
I understand it experiences inflation the word said many times over and over, the meaning, the dirt and whispers and shame. Especially the shame. It stops being what it is. What word did you mean? Do you know what she did? Can you believe it? What a cunt. She is going to pay for this. I’ll make her pay. Tiny m tasting soft. Gratification many times over of pain caused not to avoid danger of being exposed with taste of mathematics the substance of brilliance and daring, just to say it. Just to say mathematics makes you stand above, just to think my life is mathematics. So real. I bet there are more people like you exhausted. It is a perfect world with perversion in it making the perfection and sitting still thinking about it. What is the payment and what is after? That stairs turned upside down. I’m looking at my hair waving in the air like hey.
Human after all, Cutout from a drawing, oil pastel on paper, 2003
Conditions of heart, conditions of human heart, conditions of animal heart, nature which is conflicted in humans, beats in different volume and speed depending on body weight. Breathing and the beating of heart are connected. A bird’s heart can beat. A bird’s heart can beat in a way as it flies through life fast and drops dead. Once you have held a scared bird, the bird is the heart. Secrets of the heart, of a heart, from my heart, the bottom of my heart, kindness of heart, you have a beautiful heart, to see someone’s heart, to replace a heart with another heart, black heart, ripped off a heart, heart surgeon doing her job, playing with my heart, out of a good heart, bless your heart, big heart big big big.
Do people suffer more than animals? Is heart a symbol of not suffering or suffering in a way it makes you grow as a person? A burning heart, a passionate organ metaphorically, there is strange connection between feeling and a muscle, blood and boiling, the pounding one, pumping, beating orderly, kicking on its own. I don’t have to think about it unless it gets sick. Conditions like not having one, having heart selectively, heart symbolising warmth. Heart of glass, heart of gold, heart of steel, no heart, heart of a dog, her heart is strong, heart is in the right place. Heart of flame, to break a heart, a heart to break, heart attack, heart failure, heartache.
Monster tan Definition of doing, how small, how much and what. Moving. Always under surveillance, under looking-glass,cyclist passing by with a cheer and a hat, peeping non-sleeper enjoying little light through narrow slits, time when everything sounds loud. You breathe like a horn was blown and buffed to call something. Options for solitude and thoughts of all kinds, scales of absurd and trauma to your left shoulder and over, tissue damage visible cut over a cut.
Women who are dirty. Women who between their legs are dirty, they are ashamed and shamed, should be washed. Skin is dirty, armpits smell, hair is clumpy unwashed. Weed of deep-sea traveled to the feet still smelling of that salt and water, of that depth of unknown and scare, swoosh hoist her to look at her in the light. In the of day miss dUMbBum scared eyes in the light diagnosis of day set her.
The burning sheets, pink, naivety of a dreamcatcher on a concrete balcony glass shades on the first floor. Disliked the kitsch and the thought of a horror b-movie in YouTube in ten parts.
Pleasing stuffing, filled but not full, exhausted, drained, sucked, emptied, done. Wanting to fill it because of the lack of content and the feeling of fulfilment all the time that is compulsory. Drank in between the bitches in cool calm despite the sign of a mall in bright. There and the dirty double-trailer truck on the side of the road, two words, a pulp factory which has been closed for some time. It is dark, drinking in the dark the blue, yellow and red, drinking a wish and the thought of full, drinking the landscape, drinking the melancholy and the night, drinking the time, drinking the passing cars, drinking the dirty snow, drinking the shoes, drinking the hands. Not who drank but why. The problem is what you are. That is why.
IT IS DEMANDING TO BE KIND TO SOMEONE WHO IS SMALLER THAN YOU.
It is demanding to be kind to people. It is demanding to be kind to the world. It is demanding to be kind to animals. It is demanding to be kind to strangers. It is demanding to be kind to those you know. It is demanding to be kind those you don’t know. It is demanding to be kind towards nature. It is demanding to be kind to yourself. It is demanding to be kind to insects. It is demanding to be kind to people you do not like. It is demanding to be kind to people who are mean to you. It is demanding to be kind to the street.
Tired of confronting thrown dirty cloths of yours. Tired of cleaning man-made deserts. I need you to have to face and own completely and entirely what you make.
Sky of sky, sky of light, sky of space, pressuring cold, sky without breath, sky of layers that we invade, our particles of what is that. I want to say emptiness, but it is anything but. They are full clouds until they collide, the contradictions entwined in black night coming down. Blackest and lilac space, part of it open but I am thankful for this lack of artificial light. Circling sensations of being small insignificant, breathing when I would like to hold my breath. Tired of this work. Not seeing anything but that above, anything worth seeing, anything worth sensing.
arborescent dimension, cycles of self-destruction rhizomatic eschewal of Humanism in favor of pluralic flaws repressive views of institutions, we have become blocks of over-coding,
lines of flight in direction, under order rationality has its way in making, to be logical in natural way. How I long for illogical, obverse and increasingly dissatisfying false calculations and definitions of wrongs and rights, acerbic, egotist mania I fascinate myself with numbers, numeric patterns, digits on receipts on streets on buses routes, pass the way for could you understand my need for fantasy, disorder and accuracy at the same time, and findings
hoho, obstinate, started feeling inadequate could you not try like there is nothing else than to impress all the time, because it could be so much better if you didn’t measure everything force everything I would appreciate it much thank you.