Monday, November 06, 2006
Sick, sick, sick
Sick, sick, sick. With what? Deep malady -- unknown. Fixed in a box: six walls, submerged. White walls & no tv. Evil sub-epidermal twitch, linked with image-withdrawal.
You can escape, they said, but to where? Corridors, bad corridors. Phallic men, helmeted -- embodiments of the Idea -- guarding every vault and porthole. (Guns that shoot word/image complexes.)
Deep malady; anomie; syrapy malaise. Enfolded in sheets of cloth and penetrated by the Idea. Idea: arcane architect, necrophilic logic, preserved dead, encrusted archivist.
Goo. Purified goo, not a cacophony but a stream, a congealed laser. Neither image nor word, but direct goo. Some, and you always know who, call it the Antidote, supression. I can not disagree, but malady has tokened me out and they are all tied to my affliction.
You can escape, they said, but to where? Corridors, bad corridors. Phallic men, helmeted -- embodiments of the Idea -- guarding every vault and porthole. (Guns that shoot word/image complexes.)
Deep malady; anomie; syrapy malaise. Enfolded in sheets of cloth and penetrated by the Idea. Idea: arcane architect, necrophilic logic, preserved dead, encrusted archivist.
Goo. Purified goo, not a cacophony but a stream, a congealed laser. Neither image nor word, but direct goo. Some, and you always know who, call it the Antidote, supression. I can not disagree, but malady has tokened me out and they are all tied to my affliction.
# posted by eric. : 11:41 PM
