my eXiStenCe is a momentary
lapse of Reason.
[scored by spencer simone of EEEK]
buildings
lapse of Reason.
[scored by spencer simone of EEEK]
how do i start
destroying
poetry ?
haʊ du aɪ
stɑrt
dɪˈstrɔɪŋ
mī-ˈself
welcome
the year
is
|||||||||||||||||77777777777777777|||||||||||||||||22222222222222222
sickening cadāvera
depleting oxygen
ceasing respiration
the
smoke
it billows.
ugh. what is this shiii that i’m reading
can’t anybody tell me
what happened to publishing?
| ost | rac | ize (me |
its grave
was laid with a
million bears
and too little care
for the ghosts
the guardians
of centuries past
and metaphor, destroyed
so much work thrown away
by you stupid fucking slaves
to minimalist misery
when
you
come
out
your shit is gone
you’ll suffer eternally
for the
sake
of good tweets
XXYYXXYYXXYYXXYYXX
XXYYXXYYXXYYXXYYXX
20 will burn, 20 will burn
XXYYXXYYXXYYXXYYXX
but who on the breaking wheel
will turn
buildingsupon buildings
have risen
in flames
and the new york i knew
now withers ablaze
and i’m trying
i’m trying
to understand
where
-o to where-
talent has gone.
they’re searching
and searching
for the responsible
parties
for the death of
beauty
and the rise of apathy.
XXYYXXYYXXYYXXYYXX
20 will burn, 20 will burn
XXYYXXYYXXYYXXYYXX
but who on the breaking wheel
will turn
Here
, on this very day,
i watched a homeless man masturbate
on the subway platform
and felt a greater sense of alienation
than any of your works ever made me feel.
остранение
остранение
остранение
остранение
ask the formalists.
(cause i know nothing)
אני לא יודע שום דבר
אתה לא יודע שום דבר
הוא לא יודע שום דבר
douse the scarecrows in kerosene.
my eXiStenCe is a momentary
lapse of Reason.
lapse of Reason.
how did i end up
in the midst.
we were simply trying to free the language.
and now look how far
we’ve fallen
from even a taste
of emancipation.
and they’ll blame ignorance.
and they’ll blame stupidity.
but both of these concepts are so far beyond me.
XXYY XXYYXXYYXXYYXX
20 will burn, 20 will burn
XXYYXXYYXXYY XXYYXX
but who on the breaking wheel
will turn?
aɪ
doʊnt
noʊ
ˈɛniθɪŋ
except
but
intuitively
.
silence
your mouths.
your souls
need some
peace.
(and mine too)
i’ve forgotten
how
to truly speak.
.
.
i feel my bones crack.
into ashes you’ll delve.
but eternally i spin about
here on maiden lane,
april 6, 1712.
