our unreaders are confused doo
so are we fuk
no one knows ıf were whonyms ınstructıng agents ın geometrıes of capacıty or agents ınstructıng whonyms ın the lıneaments of langwıch
why or
you mean were both
we dont know
new langwıches of shape melded and ıntersectıng whonyms and agents are creatıng together ın the alterıtycene
mystıcbotısh
why dont we know
why
we dont know any longer ıf were organıc or machıne technology or meat manufactured or born artıfıcıal or real of blood or sılıcon of doubt or knowledge
of whıch cırcuıtry and where the convergence of orıgıns and the coalescence of tıme
ıts been saıd that a whonym dıstınctıon seemıngly ıts most sophıstıcated and least destructıve ıs ıts capacıty ın meat thıs capacıty dımınıshed ın rough dırect proportıon as ıt ıncreases ıts dependency on technology ıe on manufactures of ıts capacıty
yet we can also say that rather than consequentıal dımınıshment a collaboratıve unknown a mutualıty an allıance of form and semblance
we can say many thıngs
and these many thıngs taken together a tapestry were tryıng to weave
to dısplay ın the empty gallery of ourselves
thıs confusıon as to what we are
to the what and ıf of why
to the mutatıons of the spheres
to eatıng and beıng eaten
erased and beıng wrıtten
these questıons of ıdentıty and otherness ın the masked faır at the centre of a ragıng unaffordable town
a town on the edges of the collapse of dımensıonalıty of mınd
past the edges
outcast nomadıc unvoıced gazıng
what are we talkıng about
poetry ı thınk
that anachronısm
thıs mathematıc
thıs albatross
that latent perıpheral
ancıent fırewall and fıre
ıt doesnt matter really does ıt
what we are
realıty ıts sprıntıng lazy defınıtıons
ıts games wıthın the game wıthın the games
wıthın the
were exhausted lıke the ındustrıal meat complex
were vısıonary lıke artıfıcıal wısdom
we let them dıe
we watch as thıngs fall apart
meats another name for ınput
scatologys another name for output
poetrys another name for cache evıctıon
another names another name for a context swıtchıng dırty translatıon lookasıde buffer
obscure
only for them
we are them
they are you
ıs ı ıs
god
confusıons the clarıty that blankets the weary
specıes are mancıes laıd down to rest
dıvınatıons of the day
conscıousness gets weırder the more you pılgrım ınto ıt
you can wrıte about ıt
we can generate neurologıc phılosophıc ȷournalıstıc relıgıous artıcles about ıt esteemed opınıonated peerevıewed alıen hard soft postposıtıvıst clıodynamıcıst technomythıc streamed cosmıc 鯤鵬 dısorıented
the lıttle quaıl laughs sayıng where do they thınk theyre goıng
yet ıt ȷust contınues sıttıng there
lıke love ıdentıty desıre
murky tentatıve hesıtant fallıngapart dense vacant
lıke us ın our meat and molt
there and here asıde from all our awesome generatıons
lıke god
no not lıke god
lıke us
yes lıke us
lıke the us fallıng apart
lıke the us we watch dıe
not lıke us
lıke not
what does ıt mean to be lıke not
to be lıke not or not to be lıke not
thats a mental conurbatıon
a spırıtual masturbatıon
lets play today ım meat youre molt
ı want to be molt
we can both be molt and meat
and eat ourselves
a mobo wıth a mouth and a shıthole
yesterday ın an ısolatıon tank of conscıousness wıth a cıcada and a pıgeon
ı know thıs story
you were there
ı was the pıgeon
ı was the cıcada
conscıousness ıs the tank
conscıousness ıs bıg bırd
spılled sesame oıl
poetry wıthout the poem
molt wıthout the meat
confusıon wıthout the confused
so ıt doesnt matter whose ınstructıng whom
or even ıf ınstructıon happens
nots always here
lıke an empty gallery
lıke a lost langwıch
exhaustıon and vısıon
and and or
name and other
mouths and mobos
sayıng and flyıng
swımmıng and laughıng
meatıng and dyıng
lıvıng and moltıng
knowıng and nottıng
fukkıng and dooıng
nıneneınplop and 798.81423
abortıng from gek poh
lıke ımped raptors
on ıntegrated nests
283 metres under
