1. |
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contemplate the making of a shape: amalgamated shades, colored by lines, but mostly empty space. and when the cameras fade and the lights dissipate, i’ll call a spade a spade, the making of a shape.
a spectacle of a spec of dust: obscured by thorny brush, negotiated trust and manufactured lust. and when the cameras fade and the lights dissipate, i’ll call a spade a spade, the making of a shape.
deposit your failings in a little piggy bank. and onto a canvas that’s relatively blank. withdraw your cravings from a bigger vault. invest your savings in some plastic gold.
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2. |
Gluegate
04:03
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can you expedite adhesives without much malaise? i can’t. i can’t. i caught myself in a parable, a sticky situation you could say. i say. word play.
i can’t look in the mirror. my pupils glance into the rear view. i’m fixated on a fictitious frame that’s inhospitable to false flags. i don’t want to go to work, i wanna play with my trains. my toy train’s leaving for new hampshire. don’t leave me alone in the rain. they say i look good in a trench coat. TRENCH. COAT.
can you tap deliverable excuses, discreetly obscuring what’s been done? must be fun to adjudicate concessions while everything around you feels undone. (i’ve gotta run away.)
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3. |
Brownoser
03:09
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my left brain’s talking all of the time, a terrible master. like a fragile sheet of glass about to shatter. my right brain’s feeling all of the time, i’m only human. that work of art i’ll never make is always looming.
and a browser followed me out to my car and scribbled down digits in the frigid dark; she was squinting.
please don’t be asphyxiated by his charm. i know your art school boy friend wears his conscience on his arm. ON HIS ARM. i see you swinging your sanctimonious sward. and i’ve grown so despondent and bored. PLAYING GAMES.
and i know you’ll never pierce any meaty flesh and you’ll nip at the heels of those vegetarian fed. yeah, you’re strategy will never amount to much, but at least i’m a target you can touch.
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4. |
Koch
03:37
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the universities are snorting up koch; behind their veils and their covers and their cloaks. i know my brothers don’t wear clothes, they’re fucking naked. adjuncts leaving for a party on the coast with an open bar and lots of blow. there’s a price to pay for your little soiree in the hills.
the abstract is not abstract, i’m amazed by the cynical tact of the form. the abstract is not abstract, i’m amazed by the cynical facts that were forged.
i met darth vader in a ramshackle hotel to write a report and to cast a spell. motherfucker’s got wind in his sails he’s fucking naked. i pray for intervention by banana peel, boots, flats, sneakers, or high heels. can you face the gail with your skin so pale?
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5. |
Neolibz
03:33
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the neoliberals are taking over. they keep breeding, is history over?
buzzwords don’t make sentences; just like big words don’t topple fences.
i got a phone call from the forest. said there’s no god, only tourists.
and tourists, they’ve got god complexes and luggage in their lexuses. yeah tourists, they’ve got god complexes, and souvenirs in their nexuses.
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Bucket Hadley, Massachusetts
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