mayxz

im so untimely im timely

im so addicted to pdfs

insomnia fucking sucks :)

a very sweet compliment, in fact.

yes

sent a poem to a pretty girl and she called me a radioactive walking cognitohazard

dedication to a routine, but it's understandable i just can't stand it though. sitting in dust clouds, thoughts like motes while making amends with the mind of my mind and i'm living it. am I in the image yet? robotically assembling sequences, your latent schizophrenia is showing up in every pattern. oh, the other disciples, other opinions with all of their myriad inclinations, different incisions, taking notice again and again of this or that configuration, until the heterogeneity of our affections clash at an apex, and you don't wanna kiss me anymore bc i've got venom dripping through my teeth. I'm poison! I'm lovely, my disposition is nothing but crumbling. i hate this fucking habitat, the inside joking is sickening to the stomach I'm not empty because there is no interior, and nothing means anything, it's how it doesn't figure anything. but doubtless, it functions. we break through each other and nonetheless touch at the threshold of something we all share... made whole in consumption's image, there is no outside.

ki|l

inm schziocphrnicec

a man of the bottom line, the look is painstaking. your suits fit you so well, are you planning also to be buried in them? coffin filler, Mr. money bags o' filthy glass man of the phallus. Here, Sir shirker, shriek! a murder! what lizard's tongue gives you our number anyway?

hihi molly!!

the most common type of control systems within the human body is negative feedback. in a negative feedback loop, high amounts of the secreted substance inhibit it's own production. another example is when you're so horny you jerk off six times in 24hrs and then your dick hurts

oh that's so loud!! i wish them safe travels on their bee-journey :)

today, the human species is producing even more data

databases on the moon so large they can only be cooled passively by the vacuum of space.

just stared at the color purple for way too long

A hive about to swarm is a hive possessed. It becomes visible agitated around the mouth of its entrance. The colony whines in a centreless loud drone that vibrates the neighbourhood. It begins to spit out masses of bees, as if it were emptying not only its guts but its soul. A poltergeist-like storm of tiny wills materializes over the hive box. It grows to be a small dark cloud of purpose, opaque with life. Boosted by a tremendous buzzing racket, the ghost slowly rises into the sky, leaving behind the empty box and quiet bafflement.

[terminal]

buzzing bee disorder

flashing my eyes with a photoentrainment device to synchronize my circadian rhythm to a different time-zone while still in the airplane

what's good for the posture is good for the pose

sometimes i wake up from a nap, familiar with my immediate surroundings but overcome with the vertiginous conviction that i don't know where i am. for several surreal seconds, the cognitive dissonance experienced is absolute and then the day(s) continue...

like quasi-hypnotic rockets i walk in at least thrice

and i’m unmoored at my cores i’m tending hyper-threaded gardens, blooming monster orchids fields and fields anywhere i “want” them, prick. You’ve selected your own poison, some call it medicine instead. it’s kinda cute; endearing— Sip. and no matter how tired, no matter what a witness can lose track of itself in the muck am i the mist and a miasma when i “want” it? snagging glances at the opaque, but it’s as clear as day to me. exhaustion is built into the circuits of desire, it’s every day and for me at my foundation, i’m floating and well situated You can’t take me from my matrix, it fucking suits me i’m unlike “it.” like just another record spinning, and this is your disposition: if you insist on finding more than just a rhythm in my silt You can fucking lose me in my ash-speckled safe combination And I’m the glue, you’re the mercenary can you let me speak? is it not instead that, despite the sympathetic web string, and regardless of territory transponder codes cast comfortably, can read inconsistently? will firmly in concentration, can read inconsistently?c

well-suited

A screenshot of my computer's desktop, cropped around two shortcuts positioned in a vertical orientation in relation to one another. on top is a Scrivener shortcut (the word processor that i use); underneath it is an image file of a drawn dog girl drinking out of a urinal with a speech bubble above her head—thus implicating myself and my poetics as the piss-drinking, sympathetic subject pictured.

Made in the mirror, prepped for the image. Given over to a sense of grandeur, and self-sacrifice comes naturally there- after: scare-factor. Oh, maze-mapper! Labyrinthian intermission, pull me out of these ever more cleanly-cut spaces, and lay waste to all of these most apologetic faces, I stand double- crossing the distance spanning between spasms and inertia. In search of a metastability far from equilibrium. Our Abject refuse, returned to the peripheries. Actuation, a point taken and running with it Into the desert of the real: To the heart’s content. Co-ordinates; can you Hear me?

thank you so much!! i appreciate the support

i am choking on ground molars: a miasma in my mouth of vapors— oh, i think i am made out of teeth! i am an amnesia fountain, chock-full of atomized youthitude & femicide, ironed out into a fine specimen of gentle disaffection a soft guile, wire mask guise & sly smile. i am tectonic, like fine china plates.

drvnkpvppy

Italian political theorist and activist Franco Beradi's newest English publication, titled "Chaos and the Automaton."

franco "bifo" beradi's newest english publication is wonderful, by the way. i can highly recommend :)

tongues should be able to regrow themselves, and this isn't even a controversial opinion.