All I know is that the numbness creeps up on you and takes you by surprise. You feel nothing and care about nothing. You have no recognizable soul or capacity for empathy with anyone else. You become a blind and brutal force that has no direction or destination. There is no internal apocalyptic struggle within your soul. The forces of good and evil no longer struggle within you, only evil exists inside your soul. The most important and difficult struggle has taken place inside of you and it is over, it is finished. You have hoisted up the white flag and surrendered. You were the Titanic struggling with the iceberg. This numbness becomes a proxy for freedom. The truth is that you are burying your head in the sand hoping to forget. You have become the fodderfor nothingness. The deep dark abyss swallows you whole, engulfed.

Chrismation

Chrismation is the name given in Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox and Eastern Catholic churches, as well as in the Assyrian Church of the East initiation rites, to the sacrament or mystery more commonly known in the West as confirmation, although Italian normally uses cresima ("chrismation"), rather than confermazione ("confirmation").

The term chrismation is used because the recipient of the sacrament is anointed with chrism, which according to eastern Christian belief, the Apostles sanctified and introduced for all priests to use as a replacement for laying on of hands by the Apostles^[1] and consists of a "mixture of forty sweet-smelling substances and pure olive oil"^[2] sanctified by a bishop with some older chrism added in,^[3] in the belief that some trace of the initial chrism sanctified by the Apostles is contained therein.

Writing: just call me lucky #1

Writing: just call me lucky #1: A. nerve gas appetites as shouting angry ghosts seeping in with mustard and wine reaching for the white fool struggling with your fabl...

Roxy Painne and the medicine show - in progress

Roxy Painne and the medicine show - in progress

a mechanical tree in Kansas
dreams of  machine death
first there is rust
and then there is pressure

melting it down
to feed the birds
you thought it was a matter
of right and wrong

everybody is talking backwards
I stand on my head
and recire the declaration of independence
a man is checking my feet for wounds
he says he is a priest
but his breath smells like a pedophile

sick dogs
pick up the broken heads
hide them back into the gloom
we tie them up together
a shared infinity
as real as we can get it
it was a sold job
everyone said so
a solid world

we thought we were building America
we painted ourselves into the classical paintings
there we are in the treet scene, with the smoke
canon balls exploding
we are imigrants, fresh off the train
looking for god in the theaters and saloons

untitlted

bending down, touching
some break
they cannot breathe
solid wrapper
my soul bleeds
if I had something
just anything
then I could dance

she was asleep in the next room
shoot and destroy me
like the age
like the trauma
with a stone around her neck
with her hand dances
shouting blue and rattling dark

you stand in the midst of them
as a mother of all flames
we shall build upon your glow
like the hills of Waukon
seeing the river for the first time
my might is bone and sinew
none stays at my feet
only frothy breath of the destroyer

feeling good like a saturday night
like a suicide
the hard evolution
not your original plan
they are hanging from your trees
following you after dark
little green eyes
ready for a change

it is all in the nature
in the smile and the handshake
all these colors coming out of my fingertips
they are the prize
they are the tatse

we were riding the double decker bus
you were talking about your cooking apparatus
how you could turn the cocaine into rocks
we lived as enourmous flesh
inspired and dominating the town
at night we set the town on fire
just for the sake of fire
it needs to be tended in the right way
the devil can't rule by himself

he needs to fill his city with souls

human suffering 7

human suffering 1