D’endormir la douleur sur un lit hasardeux.
translation: We rock our pain to sleep on a reckless bed.
modern translation: fuck the pain away.
i think for me the frequency of lip biting and bunny nose (generally done in private, which is most of the time) may be disproportionate to that of the general population.
is really well written. and reminds me of a feeling i had a long, long time ago, so far away it’s almost like it never even happened.
i remember seeing this
exhibit at the palais de tokyo i think one of the paris museums with t.
let every page of this book be filled with song-for it is a book of incantation! (p. 111 Crowley Book 4)
reduced incident of d2 receptor density= reduced dopamine binding in the thalamus=porous mental filters=that’s me brain. sounds sorta raggedy.
i am working on a series of cantos, i know it sounds like haha pretentious, but i need to, they’re just so fucking lyrical. wrote 7 except for #3 in one quick stream yesterday. i can see their presentation as a chapbook of prose poetry already.
“That is not dead which can eternal lie / And with strange aeons even death may die.”
Quoting the Necronomicon, in “The Nameless City”
take a job delivering phone books (advertised often in our very own jobless town), keep all phone books and take the economy promoting ads and cut them up into unlikely poetry, cover the walls of a gallery with them, and make the world a brighter place. no one will ever report that you never delivered said phone books, because nobody uses phone books anyway.