Mr. McPain is uninhibited. brain smog enters dead at home.

bear the brunt of reality

crump

leaf

and tundra

blow up a museum and patent that action.

band aid at home.

bleeding out rope and centuries old ham sitting on a shelf baked into oblivion. boring torture fields of wheat, unleavened bread from soldiers to and fro, breathing down your neck from home to centuries old killers breathing into a bag forever and ever, orderly blossoms succumbed to a bag gourd undulating wildly breathing blatantly like sorghum.

i hope one day it blossoms. samuel. clenching jaws tight in the night, buttoned down shelf in the ice.

went down to coal mining central hamiltonville, baritone mississippi, pleading don't murder me and suffocating in ice bleating old home milton and chapped lips but i have come to tell you that you are not me, boredom and chammed lips buttoned down shirt in the moonlight. camping in a blossomed cocoon man. orb boring orb. corrugated orb. bolted down orb. a circus platitude. broken platitude. corrupt anchovy forever in heaven ascending, gastrointestinal island. on a chelsea pier sitting on fake grass smoking cigarettes with geese.

"The blood clots on the bathroom wall. The slim in the tub. Mega stains on chairs, making them in useable. Food ground in to carpet and left. Crumbs around the bed. Floors were being mopped with a towel on a broom. In all my travels this was the worst."

-google review of a super 8 motel in gallup, nm

"The reviews for this bag led me to believe this could be the perfect bag."

"We could probably fit our two grandkids in the bag with us."

dear student,

you are receiving this message because your eligibility for human life has been administratively revoked. however, we are offering you the opportunity to continue living if you complete the following tasks in the following order...

disassemble a rocking horse and pin each piece onto the same small oak tree that you planted 7 years ago.

carve a precisely accurate image of your own face into your left inner thigh with an exacto blade.

gracefully untie as many knots as you possibly can in 60 minutes. if you fail, you will lose all of your money and all of your opportunities in life will be limited from here on out.

harbor resentment against all of your friends, starting with the closest.

take a giant dump.

unbutton every third button on whatever button up shirts you own.

kill yourself.

open up a bank account under the name Carl and deposit all of your money into it, OR DIE

dig a ditch one foot wide and 8 ft deep in the backyard of your childhood best friend.

repeatedly kick the first wooden object you see after reading this until somebody notices. then, write an engaging story by hand with a feather dipped in gasoline describing in vivid exaggerated detail the interaction you had with the person who acknowledged your wood kicking behavior.

breathe the wrong way

open up all the doors you see forever for the rest of your life, or else receive a penalty of 17 snakes around your neck at once. Good luck.

eat part of yourself. this should be fairly easy (e.g. saliva)

eat something and then vomit it up.

poop your pants.

gradually knit a cartoonishly large bowtie over the course of your entire life

pray

it's going to be a night isn't it

Student Accounts Receivable

University of Yourself

“a highly digital atmosphere” 1
“mouth receiving beer”
"i am really anxious and need help"
"where's the nearest potato"
"a useless stirrup"
"human with big tusks" 1
"crafted from the finest dust" 1
"heap praise upon the lamb" 1
"congressional medal of funk" 1
"pelican with a stupid face"
"god is my spittoon"
"a plate of craisins" 1
"bring me some lint" 1
"eat lint for breakfast" 1
"infinite patchwork of existence" 1
"i was stabbed by jesus"
"cheese appreciation ceremony"
"greasy landmine"
"a crass dandelion"
"fluctuating beehives" 1
"a cop strangled me" 1
"i'm being a fake version of myself"
"greasiest papaya" 1
"a horrible papaya"
"i'm so stupid that i can't even see"
"i'm so high that i'm dead"
"seriously if you grunt one more time"
"my voice sounds like a fart"
"evil bad snails"
"bread with a side of nothing"
"try our nothing special"
"attacked by an evil koala"
"the ground continues forever" 1

( learn about one result )

our digital expressions of ourselves

collapsed as layers
of absolute internal emptiness

reflected infinitely between mirrors

of ancient sacred origin

raise a cloth to reveal

intricately arranged metallic

lizard heads against

a backdrop of a trillion stars

humming microtones

in disturbingly perfect harmony

interminable scrawlings

upon rusty surfaces

in old forgotten hallways

relay distant radio signals

from lost truck drivers

on foggy night streets

image conjuring ritual

over a cup of coffee on a mountain

inhaling the crisp new air

feet firm against the earth

sweet sound of the squirrels

playing their squirrel games

birds jerking their heads

to the great cosmic pulse

slender baby praying mantis

begins first delicate steps

and the timeline expands and contracts

structures merge and divide

tiny agreements and disagreements

propagate the inevitable cycle

of hues intermingling

where there is no light and there is no darkness

( learn about one-result composition )

sleep writing revival ! I write stream-of-consciousness as I fall asleep, not looking at what is being written

breathe in a breatharian as i palleted through a chamber full of magnetic light yields, santa claus palleting the onion rag without bones. trellis on top of a heap of grasshopper pastes shielded from all sides by lava or some kind of extract… bolt me down to a rubber mallet and bleat at me wildly upending my blended throats. barbarians, he said with a smirk. breatharians. brontosaurus jeans without tassels or extracts. bloated salvaging pretending to be oneself for a living, a respectable position, but only dogs may apply. stretch out onto a wide blank slate of practical markups. branding is a central issue in today’s campaign, breath. only some people should be allowed to breathe at all, it’s ridiculous how they let everyone do it, i weigh a lot more than i look like i do. bark bark bark. i upped the salmon levels in this pastry i baked under the ocean floor with my grandmother or someone who resembled my grandmother to the point where i didn’t notice. cardboard cutout of my grandmother fools me for six hours before i notice it’s fake. i am an idiot. i lie under a brick thinking i’m alone. shadowed dog breathing into itself, carbonate campaigner or undone breathing trampoline masks. open ended casket handling service, no rules, just cats walking all over your teeth inspecting their idiosyncrasies. brand me with a branding iron otherwise i refuse to act normal i will simply repeat the phrase “underground retard” until you fucking puke, got it? i carry a solid version of my pants to school and it breaks into thousands of tiny bits. i own a school and a small ambiguous piece of trash. nothing else. my shadow is my favorite thing. crease my bowels or reach down into my shirt and retrieve a hidden key or a handle or baboon bamboo. hi onion is this a one to be talked into? i cannot own my name. to what bowel i own suffer … granite grass. pink shovel. dynamic range of milky absurdity plastered upon their basins of the world, tying strands of trombones to the western hemisphere untied but always in the process of tying. i am in the undying process of discovery or transition. brag until you know you’re no longer. without claiming my parents did get married and i don’t understand what interest people take in me, why is doing certain things more important when i’m in certain moods, i can’t rely on what other people think of my behavior. or i will be collapsing one hundred times into a carseat backwards. identity rewards, or some oven mitt systems professional with a ninety day plus pro internship staffing utensil, guided by a consistent bream of unidentified light accompanied by a breath and a rose held by a pair of barbecue tongs… setting sun . sun setting along the waterfront, spoke seriously like a token neutral party, nothing new. breathing into myself i give myself a new life, nothing done before this one, asymmetrical smile, broken pattern anonymous monotonous circumference and it’s inconveniently masked surreptitiously by dwarves in raincoats, scarfs sagging and mothers weeping together in chambers descending infinitely below art spaces in padded units, dragging their feet to win dumb prizes, everyone is taught to be an idiot, the positive influences are fading into oblivion, memories shrink away and sometimes i like to try not to think about any of this, but i’m somehow contained and need scarves so please send them this way, otherwise the plot would get uninteresting… nobody should ever be unprompted by themselves to go outside and acknowledge the self and buying a ticket to the experience of breaking a piece of wood in a small room by yourself, it costs a million fucking dollars so fuck you. get out of here, i ain’t even deliver anything to you because you’re so sequestered in your zone. crumb cake supreme, i sit in a cloud and question my judgment wildly, sometimes it is scary to be around myself when i’m in a bad mood. i can’t see myself wrapped in here without cradling a blonde child held and her bed was next to itself. smoke the top off a blonde baboon laced in opaque tears crystallizing and generating a profit, a lucrative ailment. halves and pieces of 99.9% pure osmium bark. layered inside a patty of undulating baron to the answering machine messages of 2000 gathering clues about growth and negativity and tilting under on the side 

walk off and leave me sitting on the faded crosslegged ;;;; I CAN’T STAND UP IN ALL THIS MESS OF RIBBONS AND FLOWERS, UNDULATING CREDIT MACHINE GIVING SUPPLIES LEFT AND RIGHT. BY NOW IT’S A LNEWONWLESE. BYE.

scarf draped over lamp
ink stamp on cloth
windy doorframe
inhale a fresh morning
grasping but floating away
my brush with spirit
brush up against particles
warmth of street light
barrage of shimmering particles
shivering in crisp autumn air
heap of frayed ropes
shafts of blessed light


( a one-result composition )

pills within pills

~

the world's oldest object is you.

~

(a video-dating profile)

“I like dogs but I don’t own a dog, I just go out of my way to interact with other people’s dogs whenever possible. My favorite movie is the one you’re watching right now. my favorite color is nothing. My favorite song is the sound of me saying these words. My favorite activity is to sing my favorite song, which I am currently doing as I say these words. The song consists of all sounds generated by my body in the past and future. The song will never end. And it actually never began. Everything I’m saying is a lie, including this. The end. But I’m still talking. I could die at any moment. I was born right here in this spot where I’m currently sitting, and I’ve actually never left this spot. Everything in my life has happened around me, separately from me, while I’ve remained still. I don’t work out at the gym; the gym works out on me. I don’t go for walks; the earth’s crust goes for walks on my feet.”

~

therapist tells client: I think you’re worthless.

~

1: I’m an archetype that only exists in the context of my own life, saying these words to you, continuing this interaction. How does it feel for me to say this to you?

2: I just can’t shake this feeling that I don’t exist at all beyond documents of me, such as this document being created right now and viewed by you (looks at camera/audience)… right now. the idea of now is a fake idea. everything falls into a scripted recorded narrative within a narrative forever, nothing exists free of context; reality is context for context for context forever.

1: Yes that all sounds very important, but for now let’s just stay with the feeling. Where do you feel this experience in your body?

2: Uhh, kinda in my left eyebrow. And in my tonsils.

1: That’s really weird. You’re too weird for me. We have to end this interaction now.

2: But “now” is a fake idea! This interaction will last forever!

1: WHERE DO YOU FEEL ITS FAKENESS IN YOUR BODY

2: MY FACE, SPECIFICALLY MY LEFT EYEBROW. ALSO TONSILS.

~

a pill that will turn you into a rock or a dog, a pill that makes you forget that pills exist but retains all of your other characteristics, a pill that makes your face feel fat, a pill that turns you inside out, a pill for dogs that is unexplainable because only dogs can feel its effects and, as we ALL know, dogs are unbound by the shackles of speech. (however, the world of dog communication is vast. we only see the tip of the iceberg.) a pill that gives you a continuous orgasm for the rest of your life.

THE ULTIMATE PILL: a dehydrated fetal clone of yourself inside a pill capsule; turns you into an infinitely actualized (perfect) version of yourself, so pure that you instantly disappear. it takes you “full circle” in the context of your life so that you feel “reborn” and yet totally decontextualized.

a pill made of granite, a pill made of dirt, an ice pill, a pill with living moving eyes…

“is it organic? where did it come from? does it have fat? do you know about the caloric content?”

“uhh… it’s organic in that everything is organic because it came from the earth. I don’t know anything else. stop talking to me.”

“oh, well I think you’re actually legally obligated to display the nutrition facts on the container.”

“uhh… okay. sorry! next customer?”

“GIMME THE USUAL”

“ah! I’m sorry, I can’t remember what you usually get…”

“ah. (slightly disappointed.) the birch pill.”

“…?”

“the one filled with birch bark dust”

“oh ok yes! you want the capsule or the gelcap?”

“uhh, well, I’m not sure…”

“the gelcap contains birch oil, the capsule is dusty. full of dust. we just got these new quarter-dose sizes if you want to, uh, not commit as hard.”

“I… I… actually never mind, I realize I can’t eat dairy.”

“oh, well this product doesn’t contain dairy.”

“ok, well I’ve actually just become really socially uncomfortable with this interaction and have to go RIGHT NOW.”

“oh, I have pills for that! the social discomfort eraser, the pill that makes it so you don’t want to leave and instead want to stay around and buy more pills… and even the pill that makes you die might help with that.”

“AAAAAAAH STOP YOU PILL SALESMAN STOP IT”

(pill farmer attempts to force-feed the pill to the prospective customer.)

~ 

“would you like to try the new frilly pill?”

“what? do the frills serve a purpose?”

“yes! see, the frills upon this pill’s surface stimulate the insides of your digestive tubes in specific ways that have been medically proven to prevent things like… well, things you don’t want. things that are bad.”

“oh, wow! such a clever and cunning solution to the problem of badness. I never considered…”

“yes, and here you’ll get the best deal anywhere at 2 for $300. we also have frilly pills for excessive sweating, excessive sweater-wearing, and pinecone addiction.”

“do you carry pinecones?”

“yes, compressed into pill form. caplets or gelcaps.”

“I’ll take 60.”

“ok. $9,000 please.”

“I have to get cash from the ATM.”

“no ATM will give you that much.”

“I’m an ATM maintenance technician; I know all their little tricks.”

“will you teach me the tricks?”

“only for a price. and not a monetary price. I want pills. and all kinds. the red ones, the blue ones… ALL of em! free pills for the rest of my life!”

“but you could just hack money out of ATMs and use that money to buy pills, right? then they’d basically be free for you.”

“hmm, you’re right. how about you kill yourself?”

“how would that benefit you?”

“it wouldn’t. but it would benefit you. and you know it.”

“but life is so good”

“death is better and you know it”

(customer stares down employee. pause.)

“go away, you're givin’ me the heebie-jeebies with this weird suicide stuff.”

(customer leaves. employee contemplates briefly and then kills self in the middle of the next customer’s sentence.)

“do you have silky milky pills? ...oh!! oh my god! help help the pill salesman is dead!”

~

“Isn’t this somehow sacrilegious, this whole pill thing?? What would the BIBLE say about this? Shouldn’t we just live life as God intended?”

“Ma’am, we have a pill for people like you who think about the Bible… (pulls out pill from some location) The Bible Pill! it helps you get more in touch with the Bible & the Lord Jesus Christ.”

“But isn’t that in itself somehow sacrilegious?”

“That is entirely up to your personal discretion, ma’am. And if you feel like changing your mind, we have a pill for that, too!”

“does it have GMOs? what are GMOs?”

“shut up and take this pill.”

“what will it do to me?”

“it’ll all make sense, just take it.”

(customer takes pill and vomits up brightly colored fluid. it gets all over her Bible.)

~

“so I have this pill that makes you feel like you fit into shoes better. (sigh) I know, it’s a boring pill. I have a lot of others that are more interesting but I just really need to sell some of these shoe pills so I can justify having ordered so many. I was on so many pills I don’t even remember placing the order. Something made it seem like the most brilliant idea in the world… fitting into your shoes like you never have before… even shoes you already felt totally comfortable in before… you’ll get addicted to this shit though. I’ll never be the same even though I went through intensive treatment. I still can barely deal with any pair of shoes, and I have to take all sorts of pills to cope with my condition. maybe it would have been better to just keep taking the shoe pills. but there was that really convincing study that found neuronal rot in longtime users. Can’t keep that shit up forever. But half the pills I take are so cutting-edge they haven’t been significantly researched yet, so there’s also that. Anyway you should get the shoe pills, it’s worth it just to experience it, trust me. There’s really nothing like it. And I can also sell you the combination of pills I was on when I thought the idea sounded the best.”

“Okay, I’ll take five shoe pills and one combination of pills to feel the way you felt. Could you recommend any shoe stores around here?”

“Nope. I’m specifically a pill salesman.”

THE END.

~

A: …and this pill over here will make it so all you can see is rabbits.

B: Oh, you mean like everything is replaced with rabbits?

A: Well we do have a pill for that (gestures to other pill), but this one will just make your life feel like an infinite void except for when you encounter a rabbit, in which case your life will then consist of a rabbit in a void.

B: Wow! Amazing! Are you sure this is safe?

A: Absolutely not. (gestures to sign) No guarantees; you buy at your own risk.

B: What?? I need a product I can trust!

A: Then fuck off. (gestures to sign that says “fuck off”)

B: I… I…

~

customer: can I get a bag?

vendor: yeah *bags product* want me to put it in another bag?

customer: yeah

vendor: want me to put this double-bagged product into another bag?

customer: yes

vendor: want me to put all of these bags into yet another bag?

customer: yes if you don't mind, I've got to take it on the train for an hour and the product looked a bit damp

vendor: ok I'll vacuum-seal this whole package *pulls out vacuum-sealing machine, seals it* oh wait I'm so sorry but I actually forgot to put the product into the initial bag. silly me.

customer: it's ok I'll just take the bags, thanks

playing harp is expensive because it burns a lot of calories and it's habit-forming

coffee shop employee announces to a crowded coffee shop: “a tornado watch has just been issued for tonight. also I am issuing a separate tornado watch right now specifically for the inside of this coffee shop… we’ve seen some dust particles in corners being swept up by small air currents… papers blowing around on tables… the conditions are right for an indoor tornado. your safest bet would be to stand precisely at the threshold of the doorway.”

a performer on a stage: “I’m actually only doing this performance as a form of physical therapy prescribed by my doctor. so all of these words I'm saying were previously written by her. I think the script is brilliant and would love to credit her, but she requested to remain unnamed. she said it would be healthier for me to just say the words and act as if I could take credit for them, so here I am saying them now. these are still them. oh GOD I wish I could publicly credit her. it really eats at me to just keep talking, knowing I didn't write the material, and not attribute it to anyone… but she wrote this too, and she said it would be healthier for me to do it this way, and she's the one with a medical degree, so I'll readily surrender my natural judgment—which is of course sort of fake because she essentially pre-programmed me to make the judgment—and trust that these particular actions are in my best interest. anyway, I guess it'd probably be best if you could forget about that whole script-written-in-the-past conceptual framework. kind of weakens the façade of spontaneity. but this is still part of the script. everything I've said tonight, I take it all back. and this. and this. and this…”

a human displayed in a vivarium designed by aliens as part of a zoo for higher species. each person requires an environment that accommodates their unique needs. “going to the movies” is just a setup to make the human behind the glass selling you your ticket feel comfortable. they are behind the glass so that they can be observed doing this incredible thing—selling tickets to a movie! it makes them feel good about themselves for having a job, it's temperature-controlled, and as long as you pay them they'll stay there all day. the real show happens at the box office.

bad physical therapist : “great, yes, very good, everything you're doing right now is perfect. oh, well, that's probably good too. yeah, keep doing that. well, unless you don't want to—yeah, that other thing is good too, that definitely seems like it could improve your physical health in some way… yes, good. keep doing that. great.”

suggesting Mary Had A Little Lamb to club DJs

basking in the experience of the rice having been microwaved

a campaign to outlaw everything humans have no control over

my bedtime routine is just going to bed.

warning labels should be put on lemons, trees, etc. “WARNING: THIS IS SOMETHING.” microscopic warning signs on dust particles — every particle has the potential to be dangerous, and this must be formally accounted for.

“this duck breast contains powerful energy forces that will heal you spiritually from within, thus removing your need for all your material possessions. including the duck breast itself.”

a self-help author speaking to an audience: “I only lean on what is directly behind me — I used to spend all this time & energy trying to get perfectly comfortable in a chair or on a bench or a rock or whatever — today I sat on a 28lb wood crate of asparagus on a handtruck outside a grocery store waiting for the manager to work out a complication regarding the acceptance of asparagus at particular times, and I can tell you for certain that none of my discomfort in that situation could be attributed to my seating arrangement. no complaints about that aspect. one day I decided firmly that I will never again think about how I sit lean or lie on things, because I realized too much of my time and energy was being absorbed into it. now I have one consistent universal action sequence that I apply in all situations where I want to have a seat — I just bring my ass downward and if I start to feel uncomfortable I just DEAL with it, because ……… because the boundary between sitting and just touching something against your ass is imaginary. this extends to touching any object in any way with any part of my body. I never consider what I touch or how. I have assigned a simple touching action sequence to each particle of my epidermal tissue that is triggered automatically each time I touch anything, which is literally all the time. since every situation is unique, and it's hard to really define what a ‘situation’ is at all, I have found it totally impossible to maintain the consistency of the action sequences. I have been forced to let my intuition control me most of the time (all of the time), and have now realized over the course of saying this that nothing ever really changed.”

corporeality corp.

an official corporate presentation by me right now:

don’t believe anything anybody tells you, do what the fuck you want, don’t listen to anybody. learn new ways to bend your appendages. it’s sad that some people live into their 80s and 90s without knowing that they can bend their necks in this or that ultra-specific way that they never thought to try before.

“well, yeah, you know”

“yeah, I know, I mean,”

“yeah, like, I don’t know”

“yeah, I mean, you know”

“I mean, well, like,”

“I mean but like, you know”

“I know!”

“yeah exactly! it’s like, I mean, well, you know”

“yeah, I know, I mean, like, you know”

“well, I don’t know, I mean”

“well, but, you know, I mean,”

“I just, well, I mean, like,”

“I know, but like, well,”

“yeah, I guess, like, you know”

“hahaha, it can’t be like, I mean”

“hahaha no because like, yeah, you know”

“yeah! exactly! I mean, I just like, I mean,”

“yeah, no, yeah, no”

“no, but like, yeah”

“yeah, but like, no”

“yeah, I mean, well, it’s like, you know”

“yeah, I do!”

“yeah! you do!”

“I don’t know, I mean,”

“yeah, but like”

“I just don’t know”

“I mean it’s like, you know”

“yeah, I know, but like”

“yeah I guess it’s just like”

“I dunno, it’s just like, you know”

“well, it’s like, I dunno”

“yeah, I mean, I just don’t know”

“yeah, well, I guess”

“yeah I mean you know”

“yeah, you know, like,”

“well, yeah, like, I mean”

“it’s like, well, yeah”

“yeah! exactly, like, you know, like,”

“yeah, so like, well, I mean”

“right, but like, you know”

“so I mean just like something”

“yeah I mean so like something”

“whatever, i just really like some things and not others”

“and I am by no means here to stop you from continuing that behavior”

“by what means are you here”

“rough and tumble ragweed means, sturdy but dusty”

“artfully constructed sentence, but how do you really feel”

“my soul undulates and I feel neither positively nor negatively”

“just blankness?”

“I am a blank being”

“and you accept that about yourself”

“as much as I can accept anything else”

“as in life knowing that you are alive?”

“bodies, decomposed, enter my body, and I remain alive”

“by what means do you remain alive”

“every statement has a hidden subtext, and every hidden subtext has an FAQ pamphlet pertaining to it. this is called the flaxial law. sometimes a sentence grows so complex that it develops a consciousness, and that is how I was brought into existence. I remain alive by reaching around things in a certain way.”

“good, good, that’s so articulate. how are you feeling?”

“a bit insecure.”

“why?”

“part of me thinks I’m dead.”

“hmm.”

“like this interaction is just a dream and I’m lying in a hospital bed.”

“yeah, I hear that from a lot of my clients.”

“great, so I’m just like every other FUCKING client of yours?! fuck you!”

“oh gosh, years of psychiatric education to be treated like THIS!” (weeps.)

“fuck you for dismissing me”

“I dismissed you, and I’m sorry”

“well, thank you, but I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive you. I might start seeing another psychiatrist instead of you.”

“NO! Please, never!”

“how are you feeling?

“insecure.”

“years of graduate school got you down?”

“what?”

“you heard me, you little bitch of a therapist”

“I…”

“sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude”

“yeah, that’s right, you little bitch of a client”

“I… uh…”

“sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

“oh, haha, no worries, let’s call it good. cheers.” (clinks glass. client and therapist are drinking martinis.)

“nice, well, so I guess I never mentioned that my dad died while drinking a martini.”

(about to sip, pauses.) “oh. how about that.”

A: my idea is definitely the truth.

B: why should i trust you, what’s your background

A: why should i take your doubt seriously? what’s your background? what have you got to back up your challenge to me?

B: why should i have to explain myself to you? what gives you the authority to question my validity?

A: why should i have to answer your question, you think you can control me?

B: not particularly. it’s fine with me if you don’t answer it.

A: beautiful. you’re unattached to my response. great, another person who doesn’t give a fuck about me.

B: what are you talking about? you're my best friend!

A: ah yes that's what I wanted to hear.

B: yep. five dollars.

A: what?

sitting behind my market table remembering halloweens of my Texas childhood… dressing up in costumes my mom had sewn on her grandmother’s old sewing machine, walking with her around our neighborhood at night… dry leaves blowing in the wind and collecting in gutters…

shooting tin cans with a BB gun in the backyard. old wooden fence, dry grass, sunbleached plastic table & chairs with floral waterproof cushions. catching lizards, trimming tunnels in the hedges, flattening pennies with a hammer in the garage & soaking them in vinegar to make them shine…

one time it snowed an inch and I scraped up all the snow in the front yard & built a small, dirty, foliage-infused snowman. I saved some snowballs in the freezer for years & they became rock-solid. I was a sentimental kid.

I obsessively scanned my surroundings & collected small rocks, sticks, metal fragments, bones, shells, bits of plastic, etc. my mom bought me some cardboard sets of drawers to organize my collections over time. the drawers became packed so full that they were difficult to close. when I moved out, she kept the drawers in the garage and now uses the objects in her assemblage pieces.

pill that makes you ugly

i recently had the ultimate experience;

it was just me holding a bag

my name is metal dust

i was diagnosed with beauty

severe beauty disease

everything under god’s microscope

powerful microscope of god

take a mannequin out to dinner

teach it to merely be

self becoming mechanism
toy designed to behave

tool shaped like itself

pick certain pills over others:

a pill that educates

a pill full of garbage

a pill made of bone

how to fake terminal illness:

prayer to a speck of dust,

jack-o-lantern of flesh,

die on stage as performance

a god for ham:

"god, what will happen after i die?"

"uh, you got the wrong guy, i only

control ham here"

tiny shreds of loss

a breath in an empty room

bits of plastic in a corner

a tiny meaningless pile

dusty leaves whisper

"ee ot nothing"

aloha china kitchen

teach others while knowing nothing

amateur furniture arranging

a fake telegraph operator

the moon is actually a plant

frowns in towns

tree of nothings

below omnipotent nothing

( a one-result composition )

( one result )

an ageless microcosm

rife with nothings

that pathetic blade of grass

structured intuitively through

lonely night triggered

vast golden memories

falling into thick folds

that disintegrate with a crackle

and shimmer rains

6

rain drops on slick blue tarps

run silent shimmering

sun like gold memory

cardboard box on asphalt

dried and soaked by weather

weather fake idea

timeless radiant bear

breathing from far away

breathe inward endlessly

see how good that can feel

red cloth spiral
breath brushes
windy palm

spatial kind of person

literally what is the point of doing anything

severely addicted to enlightenment

addicted to the aversions

it creeps into itself

relentless enlightenments

destroy deep self

a roof to end all roofs

disintegrate in flowers

rippling and undulating all over

the infinitely faceted crystalline

giving the traditional gift of a flower

like arbitrary everything

obsessed with playing harps

or like whatever or some shit

infinite crystal rotating

balanced on the verge of disintegration
chorus of dusts

i am a spatial kind of person

space is what i'm about

just let me occupy space

breath like trains

radially symmetrical pig
radially symmetrical smile

my crystalline experience

a machine-generating machine

uploading our personas

to update your utopia

fish around in my eyes

try harder to be more bland

family meat tradition
eternal torture universe

i hate something until i love it

disembodied injection

perfect lamb chops each time

absurdly oversized coffin

professor collapsed into a heap

basic plum knowledge

in touch with plums

happy birthday to the void

i love stuff, as they say

stuff everything, as they say

our breath, as they say

pump up, as they say

our flesh, as they say

human flesh, as they say

motoring along, as they say

air blower, as they say

largest stuff, as they say

somatic origami

destroy all of my thoughts

exorcise everything now

milk that tastes milky

dipping into a diamond

i've never felt so formal

composed of mere forms

what is a dream precisely

heaven and hell are intricately intertwined

we carry all types of blankets

any blanket you can imagine

blanket on the clouds

basketball the size of a ping pong ball

basketball the size of a basketball

new everything processes:

a thing that feels like nothing

limitless availability for you

you can get everything free now

our earth is infinitely beautiful

or something like that or like whatever

facial features all rearranged

so important it's not important anymore

want timeless nothing

to grit your teeth so hard they crack

gambling for nothings

hey i just won nothing

volume turned up dead

external experience is too limited

craving a lack of craving

ovulating heroically

weeping forever internally

to interpret what can't be interpreted

arguably the most arguable thing

realize what realizing is

proud of my relevance

split fundaments

inimitable texture of wood

disgusting greasy everything

to grapple with a grappling hook

to gracefully repeat myself

every tiny moment repeats

just a small crinkling

the infinitely powerful machine

destroying all things ever
external eternality

most relevant anchovy

help me consume myself

frustrated into forever

endless panelled ceiling

vault of empty echoes

pillar of thick steam

super oblong flowers

the best polka of all time

i woof ferociously

everyone knows you can't know anything

cheeses on a flower

cheese somehow exists

big threatening machines

artichoke-shaped hats

world's greasiest salami

carrot manufacturing plant

ultimate trombone machine

story about a stupid lemon

spores on his breath

i can breathe spores

i am an everything specialist

skinned the planet earth

never ever remove your costume

rip off your real face

bong and bread

stuff a bong up your ass

our many-jointed legs

bilaterally symmetrical consciousness

a soft feathery field

quiet woof in the distance

my name is rhododendrons

one side leads to another side

want to read books about myself

i meant to say yas ot tnaem i

palindromic phallus

the andromeda facade

my own personal triceratops

in my own personal barracks

triceratops from the past

crystal facade or something

i'll buy the whole apartment complex

stay in a new room every night

and kill myself in the last

world's least educated teacher

reading a book about me reading

erase the act of erasing

attachment to my shortcomings

i pretty much feel like something
small dogs in my armpits

feel myself flaking away

am i truly a flake

flake into flakes

brought into being by life itself

scratching endlessly on the walls

mandelbrot handlers

body geometrically dissected

the sacred cleaving

crystal cuts death

dormant crystal energy

the crystallographer died

(abyss crystal death)

got a crystal infection

faceted to death

world's smartest artichoke

speaking in broken nothing

i poop pure diamonds

i majored in pooping

enlarge everything right now

i believe in bigness

i subscribe to the idea of weight

i support the idea of movement

subscribe to the idea of farm animals

the bolo tie machine

a crested structural

reach but threading

greasy but breading

historic hammer thing

look into a glassless mirror

trickled myself down

into a tiny gap between rocks

that joined and exploded

into radiating old

pixel computer aesthetic

angles behind glasses

placed carefully edge to edge

until stripped of all but

raw bloody skeletons

fields can be fluffy

this sweet rustic feeling

plugging into forever

unplugged into nothingness

i'm grateful for the ability to feel grateful

but absolutely not one other thing

there is nothing else good here but

i'm grateful so it don't matter

ripped apart nothings

an oblong nothing

rambunctious nothingness

nothing scattered across the floors

wielding a large nothing

opened pandora's box and found nothing

shackles made of nothing

the answer to the problem is nothing

continuously becoming nothing

i'm rotating nothing

don't be late for the nothing

replaces things with nothings

everything nothing ha lol

embittered nothings

frustrated into nothingness

i turn my head and nothing changes

elephant roped off

elk must be confined

animals deserve to be caged in

thoroughly restrict the movement

woofing around all day

kicking myself in the ear

you know just little fun games

i am just someone who likes fun

smoking a rubber bag

drinking smoke juice

tweaking my ears a little

melting bedazzle

orangutans whispering

rebellious leprosies

rambunctious infantry

brandish my brandy

a single lonely red leaf

many methods of breathing exist

choose one and call it your own

repeat after me: hammers

repeat after me: swords

repeat after me: crumple

repeat after me: handles

repeat after me: fisherman

repeat after me: pumps

repeat after me: bread bread

rooms lead to smaller rooms

move your body and you can move



( a one-result composition )

official government flowers

in an officially reserved room

only to be removed for official purposes

such as the experience of awe

a government issued validation

the big idea of suffering

viciously oblong

disembodied hand sprinkles

light flakes delicate

across neon lawns

magnetized air particles

bending planetary thread

take cigarette pills

light flakes across me

what makes me myself and unique is that i

have an understandable face

meaning accessible to the average person

life about a toothbrush

a world never touched by human hands

imagine everything as it is except

that no humans were involved in its creation


( a one-result composition )

I am currently writing this and watching it be written

I can't get out of the experience

built-in nothing generator

an advertisement for a pile of dust

an advertisement for the idea of lint

my favorite game is my daily routine

only the most mundane things interest me

only the most mundane for me

soft oxide breaths from haphazardly carved styrofoam

busts echo forever along infinitely angled walls

lined with outer space cartoon texture

fading from a dust-particle-sized postage stamp

licked and stuck to a grain of sand

and mailed to itself

styrofoam head on a granite cylinder

breath forming imperceptibly tiny angles riding out away area intertwined bricks piled past clouds extended to breakroom wedge pushed through transparent acrylic cylinder

fast quiet barrage of exhales followed by an infinitely expanding echo

triggering electric-shocked conceptions forming infinitely angled rooms

whose walls are a causal chain of shadows

casting each other in boundless flowery orgasms quickly rusting past

skin layers receded and flaked off

under broken microscopes roughened by centuries past lives between crevices

growing thicker in terms of thinness until zoom past perfect sparkly flakes

of displaced breakroom chairs with cold coffee collecting dust
and rotating under lights that burn off universal skins

each peeled by an inward styrofoam breath

star maps forgotten

behind rows of cardboard boxes

skin thinning every day

luster is gradually lost

breathing rhythmically and feeling

my feet on a cold stone


( a one-result composition )

forever unfolding flower

piles shifting subtly

old smoky parlor

coated thoroughly in dust

walls softly fade

to dust and dissipate into

artificial cartoon type

clouds scratched away

on a transparent lottery

ticket installed as a

window in a small wooden house

three thousand years old built from

manually separated particles

as was the way back in those days

some decay spirit

filming a white void

in the past and projecting it onto the

future void created

nested voids of

crackling flecks

altered by size and color

enlarging and shrinking again

gradually form soft

image of dead machine

its innards convulsing


( a one-result composition )

branded on a cedar plank

flowers smaller than the eye can see

stock dusk scenery

a few colorless trees

cash register close sound

alone in dark dusty rooms

with galactic fingers

feeling the years of dust

explode in a million hues

merging and dividing at once

distant orb of life

distant space sprites

brown cloth with yellow spots

folds itself in midair

three even layers of sand

dissolving into each other endlessly

to smooth roughens

each surface a little bit differently

if you get close enough it's all

infinitely tiny flowers

if you get close enough they all

flutter vibrantly and

crisply together in unison

flutter and brush up against

each other's delicate skeletons

worn fabric lifts

yielding rock surfaces

the textures of oceans

ornately chiseled by

eclipsed spirals

embody idea orgasm

stretching smooth flesh

in supple contortions

tightening loosening back and forth

whiplash undulation

infinitely tiny screw

driving infinitely fast

yields the slowest progression

before a complete stillness

potato it seams

pointless a potato is

pointless like a potato


( a one-result composition )

pair of pants sitting in a tree

cold crisp branches

pale light evenly distributed

light leans over the horizon

the earth is just leaning

away from itself eternally

cold crisp leaves fluttering

from the innermost cubicle

the cubic innards

decay our way out

time decays it all


( a one-result composition )

propelled by dual desires

to get coffee at cumby's

and feel styrofoam

with the nerves in our fingers

jackets brushing with a

muffled sound of wind through

glass cold flesh

caught a feather in the wind

frozen moment rectangular

street light cover, eyes

fixed lifting me

like death for a second

frozen wisps of thought

turn my sweat into steam

remember the wall-to-wall carpeting

hidden in the deepest crevices of my brain

traveling for a long time and not getting bored

listening to the sound of my blood flowing
garbled whispers in the dark

dark hands toying with

dusty wooden cubes

camera pans away from space

up out of cadaver


( a one-result composition )

hey man what can i get you man

he is old and points

at two hot dogs and

mumbles to me in spanish

while unknowingly secretly

his hot dog point

plants soft grease

marks on the glass display case


( a one-result composition )

damp hands heating

slick sterile surfaces,

the galaxies of molecules

experience fluctuating tension

alone curved beams

in a blank dead space

have to hang in a moment

rotate reaching over

world's thinnest membranes

not quite the right thinness

to be sifted through centuries

hovering tiny over

a great silent abyss

the internal consilience

old fibers interwoven

abstract plaster built

and dreamed into myself

grease stain years ago

a plaster guilt

several sterile galaxies

sat cold on the windowsill

in one hanging moment

silence and a bee


( a one-result composition )

the largest crystal pile,

examined with new instruments,

was revealed to be the smallest

the newspaper told me this and

i wept continuously for a year

my friends were peeling away

i curled myself around a corner

quietly dwindled to nothing

morning fresh bright light

gathering shreds of fabric

skin warm with a glow

feeling novel texture

ground up our clothing

fibers opened up into

flickering static environments

filled with plastic sculptures

sculpting selves from

black heat dancing

we drooled at the spectacle

washed our faces with blood

and shopped till we died

we are grateful that you are here for

tonight's bible adventure

we forgot how to pronounce words

so we will sacrifice you

directly upward toward heaven

give us this day our daily crystals

and explode us from the inside

so the patterns that support

can deconstruct the need for

our conscious energy focus

never and forever amen


( a one-result composition )

another wooden-walled room

in some obscure basement somewhere

was filled to the ceiling with cakes

big glowing cakes

light fell into nothingness

her metallic thrust

dimming fibrous

scattered completely lost in

damp dust smells

an ageless man stepped in

running a frail hand through his thin hair

speaking a faux language

moved his limbs in patterns

particles stuck to his shirt

glowed in shafts of light

from windows at certain times of day

silent electric crackle

isolated in a unique universe

sound of grey electric

contact generated connection

the ripping apart sound

of eternal lack of knowledge

this eternal lack of knowledge


( a one-result composition )

spreading for an end

beyond the act of spreading

what can't be spread

greyed out moisture

in amorphous kingdoms

bleeds down form

contoured at first and

with the passing of countless centuries

deeply woven into itself

serrated gradation

in stages of withering

until tucked out of sight

coddled brightly

in rows of quiet

radiating wombs

lonely bitter monkey

crowned king of self-loathing

gnaws off a big hunk

of his own right thumb


( a one-result composition )

automatic particle separator

willfully disestablished

a stringent plasticity

rearranged at all points

according to a delicate structure

time has composed itself

of all possible combinations of coincidences

consistent pulse beneath

a communal epidermis

hand over heart walking

to and from void space

no object contains meaning

aside from your personal perceptions

nevermind you probably can't hear me anyway

but let's talk about ears

just kidding I'm right here with you

ride in gas chambers

into a configuration of tubes

metallic shuffling feet

on intersecting stairwells

ascend universal dream

row of houses blurring

under the darkest possible sky

as birds die in mid-air

and disintegrate with fingers

you might get the feeling that I am talking

but my gestures convey

all of the things I could potentially say

so clearly that I want to die


( a one-result composition )

come to grips with your grip

give way to infinite nothingness

dissecting indefinitely

without questioning the act of questioning

understood by lines drawn

through inconsequential points

tied by untying

and the smoke wafts through my house

blame all those animals

for blaming each other for blaming

but please don't think about anything

unless you want to die at this moment

I am the limitless power

of your desire to allow me

to inflate into you

to extend past your skin

connecting gently in a

precisely opposing spectrum

each subsequent phase determined

as a desire for extension

unwatched moss

decays and reestablishes

its status as a moss

floral cloth left

in electrical heaps

emanating vibrant rays

only you can remember the smell


( a one-result composition )

early experiments in one-result composition

arranged from previously obtained one-result terms:

difference between wrinkles and crinkles

on the brink of wrinkling

treading a blurry line between

nothing can always be achieved

I just want to play all the damn time

can we please just interact

only the pure interaction

monkeys form complex relationships

primate selves connect

it’s just the natural way of everything

I have nothing to say except that I am alive

my milk can help you

I need help with the milking

helping my friends milk

please help with milking

can I please just milk

monkey myself to death

it couldn’t possibly be any more perfect

a gleaming unfolding

losing and regaining my control

I seriously cannot milk

I must be completely worthless to you

I used to be a good milker

but my skills have gone down the tubes

antifreeze off my body

room with some antifreeze

with barrels of antifreeze

Tate and I adventured

discovered lots of antifreeze

I have to wash it off my skin

maybe I’ll just let it sink in

you are a sensible logical man

I don’t know whether or not to be touched

are you concerned about yourself or me?

it’s evenly dealt

high on notifications

never get enough notifications

sad without notifications

I want to die a bunch of times

keep liking my posts please

being liked is the best thing

have I validated you enough?

evaluate my validating

is this validation working

please tell me that I’m doing a good job

now I am irrevocably depressed

thank you so much for making me sad

I can’t prove you wrong, and you can’t prove me wrong either

your equivocal perspective

my equivocal perspective

please don’t assign my feelings

fucking accept my fucking apology

ugh emotions are so complicated

proud 2 be tuna

can’t squash my pride

well I hate essentially everything

torturing myself infinitely

forever returning to zero

greasing up my innards

cosmically smoking

I am cosmically inclined

render me really well

place in hell for a pig

3444 lawn mowers

(word that sounds like a street name

words that sound like an address)

my lawn mower’s busted

my lawn’s busted

my whole face is busted

all I think about is mowing the lawn

lawns must always be mowed

one anatomical impact

a pubic hair fever

this is an idea that prevails

there I go that’s exactly what I wanted

expressing every single one of my feelings

advanced expressive tools

producing absolutely dead

shit panda cakes

some pancake shits

part of an ethical breakfast

I know that sleep is right

seriously uncomfortable radiation

I have never radiated so much

the radiation superseded

I am debilitatingly confused

can I be the dominant one for once

please let me dominate you now

oh now I’m all dead

because of this whole framework

academia says hey

never felt so academic before

I can’t believe that I finally made it to this point

I completed the academic challenge

is this a good time to die

it’s a gradually developing condition

the right way is to be living

on the brink of aloneness

best to be as close to original as possible

well that’s all there is to life

are you the lightbulb guy

I personally feel like I’m dead

ever seen a pig bark

a wild barking pig

he can’t be stopped from barking

bark my fuckin head off

reach inside and kill me

someday I’m gonna be inside

I wanna be inside myself

I am glowing heavily

a heavy dull glow

your face on a golden platter

raw clams with a side of

infinitely large foods

air inside a small cavity

the air inside of a pig

maybe they’re all pigs

I wish I were better at crying

you have mad crying skills

milk my eyes out

awnings are a way of life

I’m an awning person

the awning lifestyle

it is seriously a profession

humans leave their faces

some dark corner of someplace

I found myself in a dingy corner

a vast dingy space

resting in a coiled heap

decaying wreathe

proliferation decontextualization

proliferative disjunctive

infinity the dead space

woofing at god

what if I never did anything ever again