Oh janey sits at home, her apartment, charles her roommate is off somewhere, his girlfriend, they have their own spaces, visit, do drawings, that may not mean much, draw, express, give up, sell, buy, art, personal art, art replaces conversation, love, we just give art, towards some strange being, might pop out might come together in the air right in front of you. Millions of pieces of art, and weak people.
It’s finally come to that, new redesigns of sitting together, can’t stand the old ways anymore, finally admit it, take the plunge “Just draw. Just fucking draw.” Not said meanly, just toss it off “nothing’s left.” Draw, write, explain, in blogs, in notes, in creativity, nothing is left, for the old human, wouldn’t say anything, now we wait for the new human, while drawing millions of pieces of lousy art, building, building, to impossible being, we don’t know what floating there, some strange contraption of art words drawing with words stopping in midair building with diodes scraps threads .. assemblages, but “not there” ephemeral disappearing a person keeps a memory an expectation
Of you
-
Could you come back
As that
Every time
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I don’t want you anymore
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//
Oh janey, / .. janey sits there janey scrumptious a boy might say, say that about her one day, another girl the next day, she’s 21, 22, does some of these stupid drawings, or /art-not finished art .. towards a person thing unknown being words stop in midair unknown function unknown measuring tape they stop “your mind is confused” seeing them “they are you, but not you” a piece of you a hair, a finger cut off, no not that, but something we need to know how a great piece of us thinking choosing words assembling it goes in the air to someone’s ear
I want to travel with you
-
//
I finally want to assemble, me, without the fucking human body, good tits, saggy tits, small irregular, weird, or boys balls like totem towers stamped into weird shapes by bullies with cake cutters or imagine transferred to face welts pus emitting diodes zits balls deformities too big too small complaints of the erring human herring fishy smell armpits dripping soup for monsters “I sweat because I’m afraid of you, /anymore” we try our best, draw now
Nothing arrived, to perfect us
Draw now
Rely on your mind
Being pretty
-
//
Pretty and substantial and worth something and warm
-
//
We wonder janey does reading this book what comes out instalments plus history pieces of it millions of tries to meld flop wasted out tired artist “has nothing” then has something, working artist, like any other, this is his, and Janey’s too, or all of us, some contraption, past art on our walls, and self-hate on our minds, or being used by boys girls “where is the fucking dignity of the human?” and so nothing left – she’s young, is nice enough looking would not reject kisses in wildflower fields airbrushed hairbrushed just showered petunia fresh no one to give it to, boy or girl or skunk or skull or any meaning “sad no meaning” and this, this fucking strange book, off to the side, huge dump pile, people’s minds, never had success, who ever did at this being, floating in midair words twisted to become this – no, we work on the human, only that.
But some of us didn’t, we work on this.
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Each week or random, some days, some 3 days skipped, and of course one day he will die, the artist, and just carry on odd impossible difficult “a human shouldn’t even be thinking of developing as this, they never should have started” who has time. as we get hints, what it feels like, if you do the meditation, and if you don’t, how you can help, or support this, what’s not there, what’s impossible to become.
But there’s nothing to believe in.
This is the only thing that got the persons spirits up.
No more believing in something, but living something.
Weird bookish intelligent practical warm helping human male or female not so bad to be helping warm /fuck that I need a new being something that has any respect at all for being good kind I need a super-good kind but no fucking comic book hero I need it out in this world and functioning ordinary as practical possible integrated into the human as she or he stands. You can do it. it is odd dirty apocalyptic everything blown up we still have a chance with this. This is serious, in the hospital corridors, when you’re dying, no one is around.
This is serious.
To integrate this new being into yourself.
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How do you do that, stare at words stopped an impossible big impasse shoving you back from them, to become in them.
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