tesxstxs: 4

welcome to the madness
of trying say what we are
it goes along really pretty well
with trying to be what we say we are

im sure youll get on fine


the powder-smoke
of collapsing load-bearing structures
billows out of the blasted-out windows
of the world building,

some shards of which some
times abrade some of our red cheeks
out here somewhere in the phensomenon.

, doesnt it.

howd you like
to slowly tumble
down the hair-lined throat
of the words of all the others.


is how we hang on.


AMEOS identifies and buys failing hospitals


preexisting principles, also called “Abyss” or “Protofather,”

gushing forth a multiplicity of “existences” or hypostases

washing in the pit baths after a shift.

hot water in the tap so might as well scold yourself.

skin is the border of the outside,

. in it the system walks the heap looking for unused memory.

imagine evolving skin.

Next month, when more is known, I’ll be sure to provide a joint model-A and model-B update.


something kept turfing ppl out
of their own lives and into
some other sludge yet as bay leaves
were also available in it no one
took up arms they never worked
out what flavour they had and why recipes
always called for their use but that familiar
ity in foreign sludge kept them level.


then the world fell away from everything.

sort of like to match.


“Order created!”




on était là à se dire.


serial lives

cracked closed

serial spoke(n)s
in moulded dusts
unconvinced and
fully operational ones
dredge-bombed tower block ones

their hearts spun tight
into priceless laced
rpg tabletop metaphor
& swept off it like crumbs
to make way for current

torn out of us
in the ancient days.


no one found the existence of the shot tower strange.

inverse upright anticipation of the rifle discharging.

nothing (comes out of it) but “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly”
                                              “yeah exactly” in response to (shooters) internal monologue.

marking out spaces of spaceless human law

, but a figment of yr reason

compelled to convulse.

where should it go
what should it stain
what could it spoil

: could our maggot minds
share in its digestion

with the cambrian grass raging
btw our fingers

“dont listen to the golf ball
sized head inside yr neck:

whatever hes paying you ill double it!”


and be careful when saying sth that might bear on what someone else has thought, felt, experienced, lived, been through, endured, suffered, sensed, intimated, imagined, or vaguely bristled at.