(0.) Intimacy, is almost fucking
Asinine
(1.) The Scheme of all Disasters, is the Reduction of an Event to
the Scheme of Teeming, i.e. ‘A Thin
Drizzle’ which is an Apparent
Appearance: Sensibly, Stillbly, yet
Suspecting what’ll eventually fucking
Bite
(2.) In Other
Words:---------àEverything
is Illogical that contributes to the Realization of the Logical Ideal that Possesses an Anal-Relation to
Organization.
(3.) PGN WR—[!]
(4.) This includes the Details laid out for my own Obstruction:
so that I can no longer Construct what is this (in) Thought
(5.) “Hardening the Heart and Thickening the Plot”
(6.) The Charmed Vagina of Presence
(7.) Absence is just an Abuse
of a Word; it is not to be Found in Facts, or Driven Elaborately into the
Ground
(8.) It is a Question, or rather an Insistence of Suffocating a Silence before it can even Appear
(9.) And that is Why, I am Constantly Moving my Hands to
Express-----------------------à(this)
(10.) One of my Greatest Fears, is that What I Say, is merely,
Elevator Music
(11.) There is no Virtue in Patience; and the Analogy that Comes
to Mind lies in a Ditch in every Language
(12.) Contrary to what this Shit might have Revealed: you’re
Measured in the Soft Glow, of a Face, in the Street, from your Window, in
Mid-December; Hushed, as if, even
this Moment, in your Mind, passes in a Bullet’s Trajectory
(13.) Even Patience, couldn’t give you the Space in which to Hold,
or Gauge, What is Lost; thus:-------àwhat I have Seen here, Becomes a Theory of
what is Cued to Fall Asleep, just enough,
to be “Out of It” and to a Fault
(14.) And What is Ahead, over those Hills, my Love, is our fucking Hell, Where You and I,
will one Day Meet
(15.) Thus: “Hush…” in a
Hush Now
