PREFACE

BY BJØRK GRUE LIDIN

ROUTES OF INDIGESTION;; IN THE INTOLERABLE AND ACCIDENTAL EVOLUTIONS MUTATE;; IN CONDOLENCE WE DIE;; REPRODUCTION OF ENDINGS ENDLESSLY PUTTING IN PLACE, CONVINCING, FORCING A FEMALE, CONCEPTION. I’M STARVING TO SURVIVE. FIGHTING CULTIVATIONS OF FELLOW FEELINGS YET THE FUCKED DIVISION BETWEEN MY CHOKE AND YOUR BREATH SUSTAINS REPULSIVE REMEDIATIONS,, THE PEOPLE;; AN ERECT BODY. STANDING, UPSTANDING COLLECTIVITY. CONVULSING IN STILLNESS.

IT COULD BE IN ANXIETY THAT BIPOLAR MOVEMENTS THRIVE.

 

‘You can live in my pussy’

‘What does it mean to live there?’

‘That we kill one of us when you move out’

‘From your pussy?’

‘Yes, I want to kill one of us’

 

MY NIPPLE DESENSITIZES,, SICK OF EXCHANGES THAT SUBJUGATE. I UNDERSTOOD THE OTHER DAY THAT ALL FEMALE FRIENDS HAD BEEN LOVERS. WE BROKE UP ASYMMETRICALLY. NOW MY LOVER HAS OTHER LOVERS,, AN ENTIRE MUSICAL ARCHIVE. BYE BYE BABY. LEAVING YOUR SHIT BEHIND IN MY GARDEN,, MODIFYING COMPOUNDS OF INGESTED HALLUCINATIONS, TRANSCODING DISTORTIONS. I’M LEFT WITH NO FORSEEABLE UPCOMING, TO COME, CUMING. SURVIVING.

A BOOK IS WRITING,, IF ANYONE DECIDES TO PUBLISH IT CUT OFF MY TITTIES.

 

‘A gun in your face’

‘No penetration?’

‘Champagne in your holes’

‘And he pays right after?’

 

THE FIRE IN MY OVARIES KNOTS.

IT WAS NOT POSSESSION NOT LOVE, IT WAS NOTHING,,, WE ATE MONSTERS INSIDE UNPRODUCTIVE ORGANS. INSIDE YOUR WALLS. IN THE SMALL CIRCULAR OPTICALLY INSENSITIVE REGIONS. LOST AESTHETICS. WE DON’T SMOKE HIM ANYMORE. WE SNIFF HIM AT A DISTANCE.

 

‘It’s funny how I used to believe in peace’

‘I think you are still funny’

‘I don’t believe in peace.’

‘But you’re still funny’

‘I’m serious. There is no peace for me.’

 

HE WENT TO A BEER GARDEN I THINK,,, AND WE NEVER SAW HIM AGAIN.

SHOULD I TELL FACEBOOK WE ARE OVER,,,, STARTING A NEW QUEER,, REJECTING NEW QUEERS SEXTING PUTIN FROM OCCUPIED RAINBOWS. I LOVE PLASTIC. NO CONTEXT,, ALL ABSORBED BY CAPITAL. LIMINAL IDENTITIES DISCHARGED BY YOUR UNINTERRUPTED LABELLESSNESS. SELFLESSNESS. NO NAMES ON THE MANIFESTO,, ONLY WHITE FACES. THE MOST OPPRESSIVE STATE OF MIND::: SUBJECTIVITY::: CONSUMED BY THIS THING LIBERTY SO STOP PRETENDING,,,

THE CHAPTER BEGINS WITH AN OBJECT.

 

‘Let’s swallow the flowers’

‘Is it safe?’

‘Sometimes I want power’

 

ABOUT SELF-CARE:: WHEN DID I EVER DRINK WATER,,, ORAL ADMINISTRATIONS. I’M STILL HERE THOUGH. HE SUCKED MY PUSSY FOR 30 MINUTES AND STUCK UP Q-TIPS. A MIRROR IN THE CEILING:: DEEPER PLEASE, THROUGH EVERY HOLE, CAN I CLEAN YOU, MORE, ALWAYS MORE, BUT TIME IS RUNNING OUT, HE CUMS. SHE COMES INTO POWER.

 

Artwork © Pöist Simulakra

Malise RosbechComment