Veil of Cunt

Friday,
June 22, 2012

8:45 PM

This is one of those
forbidden fantasies. Where I’m alone in the cave of

anonymous sensation.
There are no semantic relationships, only free kinetic entanglements.

In the swirling
cascade of intense essences I disambiguate and coalesce into the lifeblood of a
pandemonium, clamoring for amplified interdependent pleasure.  We churn in the vein, specters of our former
selves, with hands and fingers extended farther then our arms can reach. I’m
registering the sensations  of
unidentified agents. I’m over-tantalized unable to analyze second-tier
significance, it’s just value, hot electric truth, I shutter over-confident,
caught up in the infinite consequence of a meaningless sequence.

And then it stops. I
ache and stumble bumbling through the day to day, its not apparent though no
one notices. Leering into the eyes of concerned strangers, illusionary
aspirations, you want a better world, to cost the same as the broken dream, but
happiness ain’t as free as cannibalizing the lower half of the conglomerate
will tell you.

I put the snuff into
my own film, the camera still rolls as the subject stays limp. No twitch, just
autofocus zooming in and out on the foreground, the hallow ground, the
deathbed, the murder scene.

I don’t know what it
means to be human anymore. I’m detatched from the core.  Just a sack of flab and a desire for
compassion.

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