lately or sohaveyou i've been working (re: becca: WORK) on a sort of aspect of conglomeration, inasmuch as the lengths of wire don't need to be so separate and may be together in order to cultivate a connected mindful state; why can't the same area house different tools, why take measures to cut pieces for inspection and integrity , the entire abstract is the integrity (integration) just as it is only rational in a whole. The next project is inspired, i think, it will work
it will come (re: joyous orgasm)
Monday, June 3, 2013
Saturday, June 1, 2013
shades thereof
wanderlust
bog beckons, "fertile, weak soil, 99¢/lb. great fruits of your labor, drown here"
mortal becomings frillop pointedly, catching near-shadow to arc blissfully on tattered framework, upward lightning brittly mimics, rending and jutting, tensile boughs to drop and wither, curling about with roots to chew in the harsh buzz of the swampy miͬͤth, grasping, "shiver outward, know the bargains, open your hands, thief"
can
and you are brought into a wracking pit where the piercing insectile whine echoes between your teeth, and you are happy, you are joyous, the work provides you with a sputtering decay where you may toss fragrant petals into a blank-wavering maw touching end-over-end, which lilts the fray at mind-shadow, pressing your eyes, magnets drag across the tapes, fucking
Pardell tilted his paper and peered discerningly, studying the framework of his visitor. "What ´¬ you tell me about this entry, Ulyv?" The words drifted, silt undercurrents weighed countless deaths. "What color was this supposed to be? You've changed your mind about five times already, and I can see you're nervous, why are you even here today, this isn't you. Ulyv, what were you doing last night?"
The visitor's eyes flitted towards the pyramid, crumpling in an organic motion to taste the surface. Her mouth ran dry and coursed with teething remarks, adamant with a witless repose, summoning shrimp's wisdoms about the depths. The office sank repeatedly, and the floor rang with cheerful buttons and whiny insectile hums, chancing service calls bump buzz thwipck thwipck thwipck
The shades marched, dragging with them a long paper sack, brimming with hot mulcheous gelatin and caterpillar parts, shrieking childhood storms and bricks and felt-fabric from far away lands and warped plastic and a noble quartz chime, stone from outside, going to fill the bog with these, come back later, sorry
so sorry, so glad, it's good
so good
bog beckons, "fertile, weak soil, 99¢/lb. great fruits of your labor, drown here"
mortal becomings frillop pointedly, catching near-shadow to arc blissfully on tattered framework, upward lightning brittly mimics, rending and jutting, tensile boughs to drop and wither, curling about with roots to chew in the harsh buzz of the swampy miͬͤth, grasping, "shiver outward, know the bargains, open your hands, thief"
can
and you are brought into a wracking pit where the piercing insectile whine echoes between your teeth, and you are happy, you are joyous, the work provides you with a sputtering decay where you may toss fragrant petals into a blank-wavering maw touching end-over-end, which lilts the fray at mind-shadow, pressing your eyes, magnets drag across the tapes, fucking
Pardell tilted his paper and peered discerningly, studying the framework of his visitor. "What ´¬ you tell me about this entry, Ulyv?" The words drifted, silt undercurrents weighed countless deaths. "What color was this supposed to be? You've changed your mind about five times already, and I can see you're nervous, why are you even here today, this isn't you. Ulyv, what were you doing last night?"
The visitor's eyes flitted towards the pyramid, crumpling in an organic motion to taste the surface. Her mouth ran dry and coursed with teething remarks, adamant with a witless repose, summoning shrimp's wisdoms about the depths. The office sank repeatedly, and the floor rang with cheerful buttons and whiny insectile hums, chancing service calls bump buzz thwipck thwipck thwipck
The shades marched, dragging with them a long paper sack, brimming with hot mulcheous gelatin and caterpillar parts, shrieking childhood storms and bricks and felt-fabric from far away lands and warped plastic and a noble quartz chime, stone from outside, going to fill the bog with these, come back later, sorry
so sorry, so glad, it's good
so good
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