10 Nov 2006

I no know words the evidence is apperition Sheila Murphy's procrastination parse shift touch words we use today to unscribe the condition of machinated lore
I have no use for words they are not as full as feelings nor as studied as muscle in fact i have no time owns words the tongue to touch the plate the heart to fill the psychomotor to impede classical form
in (i've been drinking again - notice the strain on the analytic faculties) the sounds that prevent my art from functioning
you have schizophrenia with everglades of munchausens with dappled shades of learning difficulties by proxy inability to measure crime adequately morality is tape measure and petunias belt the sucks of leeches surreality is adequate treatment for the homeless condition per se honette homme being one of a refusal to accept benefits or dysfunctional accomodation otherwise we no give u none me son read protocol surrounding mythology
Cornish gloves I'm really going to town saying something against a back drop off phase shift noise off fuck off gleen
the remedy of dada is adequate provision to subscribe vertical to u a church house a karma krud Jimmy Page plays guitar major bauhaus to vorticism to erudite shit in a can bang bang-fuck etre-sex-etre-wank-etre-freud-error literature-slip-who?-Baudrillard- no you know woshisname levi strauss-no-you-know-'im-y'know-er-aw-you-know-Dr.Barnardo-no-french-chap-point-neuf-Oh-Jean-Paul-Gautier-non non non oh-bollocks-Oh yer mean Derrida - oui monsieur-but is he the real one captain tim to persephone footballers singing pop songs reveals the breakage of deconstructionism or the leakage of the slippage into(wards) the pars(onage) of the **faustian dislogic intrinsicity (sic) to piety revealing titty (page 23) or pathos (human condition in machines) twa (aristotlian maladaptation)

actions speek louders tha' words ladders are more wordy than speckles speekles are the orwellesque colloquial twang of the internet off line and gis you tongue da rest
of course, and without authority (petty/pity/putty/pliet/pushy/shark/avant-garde/dark/ink-blot-test/matter of hands/bharatanatyam) my tea awaits me lavish green solidadis leaves a sprinkle of teeth my fathers dentures smoking guns i ciggarette to lace the twain twixt and avarice of time putting demands on my breaks

November city the sun sets at three o'clock i feel the need for romanticism but winter throws blow jobs to the cardy pigeon the business wedge of ethics in trucks blessed by hands that off swimming regionalise the voluntary sector leadership to munchausens specification did yer take your medication the dark nights studied and muted chance the bored trucks skidding lights to find somewhat similar to poetry in the tapestry of images corporeal and quite intangible this mind and body seperation
I release something personal thro' a mobile phone perhaps the most intimate thing i've eva sed down the machinary of objectification the nurture of defeminisation the boldest love i eva had through pixels in a text message broken by disjointed signal i don't expect to meet you i don't expect i eva will your picture perfect or your picture is perfect do you have a webcam we can make out on line?

November city the sun sleeps at dawn the moon (an arse) draws ever closer as a shimmery wind trace, ecriture, downs syndrome, pear shape so i left. We should use words like parse and flow and touch, perhaps tether apparency, motion, body, chance shimmy this side of town (ghost) metaphors are things the statue of a centurian now a visionary cuts the cold like a shadow knife an appeture in the star light

our light is verse bodily tongued and phonetic speach fucking raw and gentle. To lose it now would be too soon. Too soon for chance to play its wild card frantic we must suffer to know bliss we must suffer to parse the coquette of misinformation the cock of money the bollocks of finance. perhaps splice the mother tongue forge the limbs and prettyness of neutrality

for chance by fucking limb to limb groin to groin lost in a thousand skies a penis of landscape

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