this pianist is playing one of those modern pianos (you know)
it's one of those pianos where it whistles behind the vibration
of every key. it fills a silence no one can see. one that feels in the hands
like an avocado seed.

in the shape of waves i quote suehiro maruo in a black little book,
decorated for a sun with angry eyes

this is the beginning of a painting
and where inspiration draws the line

i heard inside myself for a minute, and endless rumblings for i am the abysmal mother
shotgun supremacy

and i finally got sleep. it was a beautiful rest that comes once in a lifetime. the attunement of life left but a silence on a cluttered page and i became aware this silence no longer in between was mine for infinite measures of time.
intermissions are obsolete. the voices of memories are gone and there's nothing left of me. Lilith is calm. you should be happy for me.

rainbow ghetto, crystal candy, it's meth

here's your face before and after

your tortured rockstar is still a poster child for what you've weaponized as fame as forward as mutilation

unthreatening

men are not a revolving door in my life or a weight by my side, there is no shape to be

clauneck's desire to sing sends my attention to the ringing by ear. my suggestion is his tongue to enter the crevice of my mind that looks like life to no one but him and i there is plenty of intensity within a poem that ends with no period or rhyme this is comical relief to two beings with not enough power on their mind

there are hundreds of suicide notes written today and not a single one has your name

we have murdered Warhol again. as he falls at the feet of the crane.
meaningless procedures charade art that leave less than what is discovered
from the obsession of desire to replace an image, then watch repeat

i have my soul don't lie don't lie me.

smoking rose petal from the pipe that swears by my ring finger
nuclear machinery is beside. triple triangle is aware of the subconscious mind
to tick tick tick
run the meter always

be clauneck scales that repeat at an accelerated rate quickly confused for slow
slow
slow
steady repition that lacks theory and culture. this is jazz at this place and time

xdoom​ = {x:D(x)≥0}

xdoom​ = min{x:r(x)2[h0​−h(x)]​≥Gcritical​}

Σ = {flour, sugar, air, heat}

start → batter

batter → fold(batter, sugar) | aerate(batter) | set(batter)

fold(x, sugar) → rise(x)

aerate(x) → x + air

set(x) → heat(x)

rise(x) → crown

heat(crown) → form

form →
    luciferianism

in the momentary NIGHT of the city in BLISS i have twilight vision. fight the envy that begins at the favor of the orange juice pouring down sith of the stir that profits of the blood spilled between my thighs. how righteous

fire dancer. fire dancer. hopeless and dead end career.

another loser lost in the crowd disguised as the stage

that muffin in my memory is nothing but a distraction, is an insult to my intelligence. there is my existence then time. tick tock and a big round clock is not the mind of a jester. it's a painting of a collection of lies. skeletons uphold the calendar. and i do nothing but cry.

there's no hope left in this server. so i turn over to the muffin and stare off in silence. the business man strikes. "back to work" but that was a memory as well.

playing alastor in a violent game of tag just for the way he says my mind

the foreskin of the red ruby star ritual peels back and reveals of orgy of simplicity that the desire to end it all

comes once

my spine connects to my mind in a corkscrew motion that never quietly sits still it bends and snaps until it breaks into a billion tiny fragments until the mind of the Himalayan mountains we call sun

rage

eyes gouged, black soul
his actions have paid the toll
you're out of time and i am my own

rage

don't pick up the phone
forgive and forget
rage

he doesn't know who he's dealing with
kill them all

my mind is a rehab; for my religion is a trap

the instant noodles label is my porn to the footsteps of God

orange valentino pumps on shelf with leather boots studded on the sides, teal teacup kitten heels. ominous mask. abstinence of gluttony.

behold the task of the married man at the grocery store. hiding the hijab of tomorrow disguised as the veil of today
another day amongst the busy people

empty spaces
grooves thick with lacquer

once wasabi is around,
crime is nigh

decollage worn scratches

kept warm by a paper straight jacket