Miklotov

Miklotov

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Naked Idols

Naked Idols

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Why Do You Hate The Sun?

Why Do You Hate The Sun?

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Babel

Babel

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Naked Idols

Naked Idols

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As I've aged, I discovered that the most determined way of muddling through time with absent peers is admiring the shared luck and the separate tragedies. In the chaos accounted for in years and letters, this admiration becomes a silent competition– a solicitation of stylish beatings of ideas. Not that reflecting on any of it matters when the sun is high at work. Even the sun can't burn through the desperation conveyed through the lost thoughts of the one who has gone fully unerect, but I remain at finding courage from the mighty slip of the tongue. "Come and listen carefully a ...Read more

Miklotov

Miklotov

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Intro Something about the deeds. Something about the callouses, about the airflow, about the feeds and creeds and breeds. Everything around me have been reduced to an offer. I do not spin. I do not spin. I am Nowhere and everywhere; have everything and nothing. I. What I Told The Devil "Do not tell me what you've reduced me to. Devil, I am Grand Nobody." But I've never wanted to travel. But I've never wanted to feel Like I were topping off. My mind had embalmed itself onto All carnal rotogravures, and all the console of my Luxus Petrification had been aching to soon mind itself undone. ...Read more

Babel

Babel

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The idea is to oppose your masters, not because of the idea of being an opposition alone, but because of knowing what could be bettered. I. Babel Floating with the common asterisks, risking the future by ignoring those who dove into avant-pop and the grin and gripe. The murder descended upon her holy lid. Their beaks as dirty as the ground above… Ten granular years to turn myself into something that appeases a palette. Bodied and doling, painfully unrevisitable… Come! Come, and coddle your heroes! In the place that knows no drought, we'd have to swim rising! But yes, come to think of it ...Read more

Why Do You Hate The Sun?

Why Do You Hate The Sun?

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I. Mimic Satisfaction I had promised myself never to dine with transcendentalists even if they are the one meal which is accurate for the day. They have served me a salad, a degree of debris… They have courted me, with heart-aches; condemned me to the stables; sent me to the black prison; tried to bring down the obelisk black. They have killed me. They will kill me… I promise you, she will kill me! "…And in one whole year, she will leave you with nothing. She is the sun, and the sun cares for nothing less than belaboured brightness of the others surrounding her. And so you may know tha ...Read more

Krivia

Krivia

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It Strikes Again

It Strikes Again

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And it strikes again… It is true, then. Is it not? If it is true, color it as such that it has no value.                             (Or nothing altruistic, at least.) Do not tempt me! Away and away, please! Do not ask of me! Away and play with another–                                 &nbs ...Read more

Discovering The Lazy Gods of the Above Worlds

Discovering The Lazy Gods of the Above Worlds

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Intro: "What did it matter what happened in the colorized image on the canvas? He would be safe. That was everything." – Oscar Wilde, The Portrait of Dorian Gray I. Feilian & Fafnir, & Foxtrot           It is June 22, 2019. Some have lost their summer charm; my man, as it seems to me, is an all-year, all-centuries experience. I had prescribed to myself the presiding over the ride's very precision. I squattered in the daily depictions of false falsehoods, full of chicory and taste– demonized taste, demoralized fates… I no lon ...Read more

Death by Nailbiters

Death by Nailbiters

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Earl's Energy Mix

Earl’s Energy Mix

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a.bee-er { color: #000 !important; font-weight: 600 !important; } pt 1. Earl's Energy Mix pt 2. Star Cryer pt 3. Death by Nailbiters pt 4. Death by Laborious Blisters pt 5. (Death by) Military Clowning pt 6. Plans and Pollution pt 7. Always Invest In Strength ...Read more

Death by Nailbiters

Death by Nailbiters

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The cleverness of contests and contests taste like the best sirloin served at five in the morning to my wasted appetite– the habilimentless man, the overly-chastised figure of a faggot's passionfruit, the gnawed tywysog of mentiroso recalls. I never tire of being clever, and I never tire of being mean. But I do get tired of being sobered up and I hate the push of every urgent wake-up call. The waiting in between jobs and between pays is the worst, I guess? And when I do get paid, I get all that money and purge it out in things I've convinced myself I need: protein shakes of all the sorts of ...Read more

The Showmanship of Mucciole Roque

The Showmanship of Mucciole Roque

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Tell me if you are sharp. ...Read more

 
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