1) i can't have sex with you so i procreate pro creatively while this day flies too fast slowly we'd better touch soon and look around at the vanishing views of this day too fast, slowly touch, soon, look, vanish.
2) if you want me you better speak up i will wait i can sleep with you when i'm dead you want me
3) please derive multiple meanings by end of day without attempting to punctuate but penetrate please derive multiple orgasms by end attempt without attempting
4) generations pass while we fuck on they live and die as sub-fucks of the epic epoch
5) wherever you go i form instant cliffs in front of you i hold your breath and push
Recipes:
1 2 3 4 5 - trickle of consciousness
2 5 2 5 - codependent despair
4 3 2 - longing in reverse
5 6 - the unsaid ending
6/06/2018
6/04/2018
When I was young I fell down a bluff, deep in the woods behind my house. I fell because it was night, and I couldn’t see. Also, my eyes weren’t working because my brain wasn’t receiving images; it was locked on a single immovable blackness.
I left my home in the middle of the night because it wasn’t my home. I remember easily slipping through the window, but after touching the ground and for a long time after, portions of my memory are absent, unrecorded or maybe censored. I don’t remember what I was wearing or if it was hot or cold, raining or dry. Sensation had ended by then, everything was remote except the drive to move, a need for changing through physical action.
I guess I must have walked around the house and crashed awkwardly into the woods. Branches were lines, geometric obstacles to my destination, which was away, or over there, a moving target. Through the glimmering blackness in my mind I sensed that tree trunks and rocks were darker than the shadows they produced. But there was no moon. There was nothing. For a long time I walked through it. Then suddenly there was a breath upward and a freedom like being carried.
I landed in a heap at the bottom of the bluff, bleeding and dazed. My shoulder and some right ribs broke, and so did the blackness. It was cut by streaks of red clarity. Standing up took a long time, and as I got to my feet shards of black fell away from my vision like glass from a shattered window.
I saw the dark forest and myself in it, lost. I felt horrible pain and fear of dying. I didn’t know where to go, so I remained there.
I left my home in the middle of the night because it wasn’t my home. I remember easily slipping through the window, but after touching the ground and for a long time after, portions of my memory are absent, unrecorded or maybe censored. I don’t remember what I was wearing or if it was hot or cold, raining or dry. Sensation had ended by then, everything was remote except the drive to move, a need for changing through physical action.
I guess I must have walked around the house and crashed awkwardly into the woods. Branches were lines, geometric obstacles to my destination, which was away, or over there, a moving target. Through the glimmering blackness in my mind I sensed that tree trunks and rocks were darker than the shadows they produced. But there was no moon. There was nothing. For a long time I walked through it. Then suddenly there was a breath upward and a freedom like being carried.
I landed in a heap at the bottom of the bluff, bleeding and dazed. My shoulder and some right ribs broke, and so did the blackness. It was cut by streaks of red clarity. Standing up took a long time, and as I got to my feet shards of black fell away from my vision like glass from a shattered window.
I saw the dark forest and myself in it, lost. I felt horrible pain and fear of dying. I didn’t know where to go, so I remained there.
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