next revolution against vacuum cleaners and the sad beauty of northern seas and all the not-so-good-looking animals

no such thing as fire.

no such thing as water.

there.

watch. listen. and feel.

her name was magdalena. she was born amidst the waves of guitar riffs. she had no father and her mother's head was shaved. they lived in spain at the time. when she grew up, she lived in malaga and made her living as a supplier of cocaine to local fascists. they called her "the white ambassadress". she called them "puppets". one day she left and they never got out of desperation.

my name was magdalena. i was born amidst the waves of pain. my mother had to shave her hair. she lived and died like a dog. i lived in malaga. the local fascist never grew weary of trying to seduce me with pain. i was beaten and raped. they called me the "white bitch". i never knew a word so terrible that would be appropriate for them. i shot few of them before their bullet hit my left eye. i could not win. i had not lost.

 

::: and :::

to the sunshine

just like all the other dead beggars in the empty streets of vienna. avant garde of hunger.

broken sur la gare de l'Est. all the departed. these rails lead to germany, poland.

your hair. scattered all over europe.

the impossible milk. future's futures. the golden age of escapism. tant pis. ma mere.

 

::: eve :::

deaf mute

you will never hear my voice again, i am a wood. and despite the fact you chop down one of my trees after another you will never reach the heart.  not this sad monday, not any other day.

die of suffocation.

i like to drink wine in the morning. the way the body is unaccustomed to it. i never say good bye, i just disappear. in silence. into silence. into black light.

die of sufficiency.

lies. strategies. like rot is their scheming. everyday i want to puke in their faces. everyday i want to leave those long tables forever. everyday i stay.

die of inability to say fuck off.

 

::: cufk :::

heat

dead heat society. zukunft. zukunst. gimlet. and my bloody. when you are burning... soft voices behind the curtain of your cunt.

i am paralyzed in an endless scream. just ... don't.

morning epilepsy. in a strange flat. what is more? what the eyes do not see? the most beautiful woman of my life. i have seen desire die so many times... all those bleak yestertomorrows.

sleep. now. just for a little while. you will remember less in the morning.

::: of course :::

archangel

chtělo by to začít přestat si rozesírat srdce.

::: --- :::

ignorance

like snails in mud. they are. they kill. they do not know. they never did. they fiercely guard their ridiculous territory. and maybe sometimes they dream about angels they would not recognize if they met them face to face.

the night is fast. more and more it forgets about the city. more and more it forgets about you and me. everything is just too fucked up to matter. ¨

the water is gone, replaced by cold teardrops. drink and forget. forget. no emotions. neutral purity. fences. unseeing eyes. this.

 

::: black :::