nowhere near

to become multiple. to travel in all directions in the same time. to become a network. to become a war inside a war. never talk to anyone again. i try to imagine the silence in my head that would suppress the ever-present "omniscient" buzzing. down by the lake i watched the stones in envy. this uncomplicated solitude, precious tranquillity that was not poisoned by desire. the beauty that lacks any trace of the fall.

::: everything is useless nothing works at all nothing ever matters welcome to the fall :::

heat of vaporization

banging of the drums. another sick ;; sunny mo(u)rning. reminiscent drives of william blake's mind. desperate and urgent marriage of the thought and the matter. i would like to dwell in the shadow of this mindshine inventing a life, which would follow the principle of vaporizing water: the slow continuum of the translation of molecules. i would just lie down on the bed and watch the vapors of myself kissing the ceiling.

::: forbearance is an energy :::

may the road rise with you

the final scenery. the piles of thousands of bodies. the sun is the only warm thing in the area. it is impossible to prove if someone was right. the vision is precise and clear. even the smallest detail can be seen. there are wires everywhere weaving their own desperate flight from history. several shadows of trees. the light cannot bear the unclear margins. the dead wind. the eyes that won't perish in sunset anymore. the final spectacle. no hands to separate the broken leaves. no more memories. just the immesurable madness of freed landscape.

::: your time has come your second skin the cost so high the gain so low walk through the valley the written word is a lie :::

atmosphere

chance (atmosphere). another division. the eternal reproach. split by eyes. a therapy. always in search for some medicine or tranquilizer. quote/unquote. as if i stood on an artificial cliff dividing the city and watched the infertile crowds marching toward the edge of all the neon lights. immortal in a way. there's nothing you can't lose in this space: awkward thrills, inquiet clouds, pressure. i would like to understand the nature of this overwhelming collapse. i would like to understand the face in the distant building, which embraces me like a mirror. i am the mirror. all that is left are just birds and snakes. watch their moves; derrive your thoughts from them.

::: naked to see, walking on air. hunting by the rivers, through the streets, every corner abandoned too soon, set down with due care :::

tumbling down

"well, you're the grand one have you noticed?" it's like a small death. and to cope with that makes me feel uncertain. was it or was it not bad? the boundary is not fragile. "gee, but it's hard when one lowers one's guard to the vultures" i know i know i know. because we are born immoral creatures. because i never left the sad midnight of my birth. my skull is undevelopped and my senses are covered by darkness. immoral and alone. till another darkness -that of death- comes.

::: no reason is given ... that's how the object world works, she said :::

my bloody valentine

these are the days of reminescence and of the great siege. all those tiny bits connecting by means of this reverberating music. war worried tv. free sunshine. the paranoia of the markets. silly rabbits. menthol. i spoke to the publisher. i told him how the situation was fucked up. he told how wrong i was when i thought the situation was fucked up. so here i am. another five months. i think i was not wrong when i thought how the situation was fucked up. and of course all those beautiful flowers of the past. i make them rot in presence. brutal sunshine. the lack of it. again and again. kill those bloody circles.

::: feed me with your kiss :::

white love

to the stars, to the moon, to the glory eternal .... the exquisite art of penetration. i was standing in a narrow street under the broad artificial light feeling the uneasiness of buildings. because i make them happen. because i recreate their shape from the shadows. because i sense the bare nudity of their walls. like a wolf penetrating the steppe. in the same time i imagine the whole area covered by milk tenderly embracing the stones, the cobbles, the ankles of passer-bys. the eternal liquid fluidity of white love.

::: You may dream. Chase after it. If you can convey these sincere feelings, your dreams can come true. You may dream. Pure white love becomes wings, as if the promise of an angel is coming true. :::

tokyo

can you feel the same? the agrammatical "yes, i can't" i s perhaps the best answer. glimpses of my private tokyo. the digital sky. the breath of concrete flowers. bodies ... swarming like bees. the discrete wax of tomorrow. on the night of indecision. this and only this i recognize as my life. next day i will listen to my bloody valentine's loveless for seven hours. i will take a photograph of an antenna on the house i live in. then i will imagine someone who has crossed all the bridges in the world and seen the both sides of everything. i will also dive into my computer to recollect what the ocean left there. )(guarding the eternal halo of all things)( later that day i will try to make an album of all my desires; each would be represented by a picture of some house. on a sundown i would stare at the eyelids of the sky. the endless re-birth of a non-person. yes, i can't. i know.

::: She's just so something new A waking lithium flower :::