Monkey brain/        /        /enjoys piano chord

Monkey brain                                !  …                 enjoys piano chord

Monkey+brain ===== enjoys piano chord

(Not this one though)

Ok monkey brain enjoys piano chord again and

Monkey brain*

                        *enjoys piano chord

skl******_____________________Trrrrrrrrrr….  . . .. .  …..    . .. .  .. . . . .. .

  vodka x5


(Nada Mi Amor)














pI'm fumbling more w/ my phone than most do w/ their (or other) cocks (in fact my girlfriend has gotten upset about how often I bring up that the first time I sucked a cock the guy exclaimed that I was rly amazing at it w/ in ~30 seconds so that includes me) awkward swipe at a blank screeen to excuse not socializing I pray it's a decent performance

but the moment I learn how to wield the thing i'll recycle throngs of horny millennials into true millenarians to a backdrop of warping string samples



and the violence plays out and fades 2 radio statics


a harp fixates on one note than sprints up non-linearly but in clear gesture then repeats an arpeggio then gradually drops it in a slow free fall before the repeated pattern starts disassembling itself and new lines start to emerge forming ambiguous numbers of counterpoints in any given moment

but somehow (even received audibly) this whole affair, from the initial drone to the hazardously intricate finale, feels as dry as reading the score without the internal ear to project it all

you're disappointed and would like to cry but can't so you smoke until you're where you want 2 be which ends up being


I'm driving home from the show

Radio playing trap music that couldn't have existed five years ago

(outside u mostly just hear the engine)

But some people still have no sense of time


I pass through a neighborhood where I used to fuck regularly

And now I only see it on this specific drive home

And some people still have no sense of time

= ==== == ,,, ==    = = ,,= =    == ,,,,= =   = == =  ,,,,= =  = = ==     ,,,,= == = == = = ==  =  = ,=,=,== =

I can imagine, back in those days, some ostensibly omniscient researcher tagging me as a test subject

(Is my fashion sense distinct enough yet or will they need to make their own markings?)

Noting that I go to this same place that is not home and attach and split bodies with another

To squeal contort fluster myself create new rhythms

And then at some point stop forever

While they continue to sometimes attach and split

With the other body that comes back there every night, and often others

Ad infinitum~

My stopping might appear as a totally unpredictable event

Maybe it was

:::The data never lies:::

>-[Except by omission]-<

:::And we have this in common:::

I drop off the possessions she'd loaned me then leave

As I cross dirty snow to catch a bus

Something jerks, self-destroys

Maybe the car of someone I'll never interact with

Or the contemporary discourse around a minor Marxist concept.

Fuck it.

The shrapnel of whatever it was,

Agonizingly slow,

Headed right at me

If it weren't for history the rest of my life would be waiting to see what happened next

And then not even getting to consciously experience the vaporization itself,

At some point maybe noting that I could only conceive of its motion

Through metaphor with Metro Boomin's style of stretching a note

The catch is

In the years that it takes for it to reach me

I've evolved into someone else entirely

Who has the poise to nonchalantly avoid the disaster

Who could be one of seventeen rather important figures in a new religion

If the correct Messiah centralized us

But this simply doesn't happen

And we all go home embarrassed without even properly meeting each other

(Not that I've ever properly met someone

According to my brain when I'm this depressed)

kuul——–iii  ii  iiiiiii   ii iii i iiiiiiiii

The only real consistency here

Is how I have to confirm I want to continue much more often than I have to put quarters into machines

Born too late for these to sync up

In the ubiquitous way they did for a brief period

I imagine their occurrences finding grace when revealed as an elaborate, swarming polyrhythm

The insistence on redemption being my way of indulging my childhood Catholicism

Any rhythm that complex deserves to decapitate me.




Hey reinvent yourself

High school all over again

Everyone's early 20s or older


First kiss first period first time skipping the homework

Tripped in class once and a desk catches my jaw,

Teaches my spine to stay straight and condemns it to a permanent sixty degree angle

And v v v v

(this is why, eventually, I lose)

(Finding cynical vengeance in synthetically reducing the crowd's roars to a single buzz

That grants me the ecstasy of a known fate

A last consideration of my fingers

And the lions re-interpreting my body, total, into nourishment)

(But it seemed funny at the time)