Orbits Gum

Go looking for it. Orbits. Trenches devour the holy with mm, goal foal stole roll hole mole change out squill fill hill bill chill always until. Its planted in a garden of symp toe Matt holy toss before hearth of cramp damp amp hamp lamp. Rhymin roots through me. Nothing can collect but collage of its freedoms? Burden. Bees are burden of succulent tomb mending pending sending defending up up up the pipe to freedom. Its froggy mug lug tug rug. And out for sauce. The trunk.  Miss uses Spoon and dunk. Drinks revisit it with some kind of piston…

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Up to Nothing and More

Cling of Sling Cling of Sling is in part part of an adoration fascination with god, love, resurrection, spirit — an intrigue with synchronicities and opposites hanging like a feather clipped to a bridge. Piss Art book is pastiche. Starting Version 3 — expanding. A revolution liberation rant odalisque, that blends vilification into shame, and scandal with crimes of dubious wanton passion. Beauty’s rage, Cling of Sling, caught in a hyperrealism — over heartbreak falls through to a shocking incredulous boil, like a screaming kettle of death. Face of Card Meaning takes on an inspirational/conspirational inflection as a wicked embrace…

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Feminime Jouissance

Exchange of extensions. So valuable. I am sad. I am glad. I am bad. New char called Leatherette, my lovely leatherette, stubborn, defiant, but chummy too yummy gummy often stumped — but not (and this is important) frantic. Char Lotta is now proclaiming wants to do a whole bend-etta on Sad Girls. (Kiss kiss.) Miss piss. Comes from notions about art as a fervor, frisky bumptious enigmatic excremental. I always miss because of piss. Due to sacrificial subsidence the vortex of virtues, got stuck with tons of them. The Ones who work in Sorrow. Sorrow has shine, like a vendetta?…

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Vampire Logic

Best thing about vampire logic — That they share needles? drink blood? that they come alive at night — Forever and ever lurks for blood, that mad desire of the eternal, to bite into neck of life and yet: never die — no, once bit bit for good. Cant help but love other vampires for the articulation and beautification of human weaknesses. Vampire is a treasury of our most harrowing love for something — with a side of death — Violets vampire rages forced me off into affliger cachette — affected regions — taste of blood in mouth of dragon…

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Dribs & Dabs

3.8.20 Vampire Verity Vampire Logic started out as a closet with drawers that began to fill up with char — Cinder magic built, to have somewhere safety from blood on the walls — Then it turns into a lodge of sorts — The Vampire Lodge? Velvet papered walls, of course, plush carpeted corridors. And off of wing after wing labeled with names, like for hospital bed, draped open sesame beautiful coffins, each pitched in own way, under window treatment. Cinder char dances down the hallway, in drapey and crepey — grey black green till strikes it red. Blood for radical…

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Is It Hell?

1.6.20 V2 Something keeps on reaching out anyway. Reading signs — in the emptying sand, weaves shadows into meaning, and comes alive, at stunning visual distances. Lives for it, loves for it. Something irreparable keeps me there. Searching for surface of love. But what, what am I reaching for — what what?? For reach. Reach itself is after reach. Evil go weevil, loves after making me reach, to have cause to reach for it? It’s not madness nor even pretense. It’s some sort of shared resolve that has to be acknowledged for it to exist. Silence rings with frantic revelation,…

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“word-storming in the name of beauty”

processes of compiling