i’ll tell you all the blasphemies about jesus christ, having sucked out a prostitute’s cunt and arse for ten quid extra on top of ten quid entry fee into the brothel and one hundred and ten’s worth for an hour - you can start by posing on or off the cross with the celebrities: idolatry in the flesh.
my face isn’t that much of an arse shitting out a turd,
so when i have a dream...
and dream of an egg cheese and ham sandwich
having fasted the previous day,
waking up on a salivated on pillow,
having posted a picture of my face
on an internet site where a few maidens read me
i get the impressionism in freudian theory:
my dreams can’t have that solipsistic dimension
of self-projection,
so i get up, drink two glasses of half water half milk,
have coffee, smoke a cigarette and think shit out,
all because, as we’re standing we’re all fruit flies
on a rotting apple, or just dirty flies in a web,
and the spider / rotting apple is centralised
by artificial intelligence, i.e. the intelligence that was
once a part of alan turning... so this crossover
connectivity of conscious thought and false self-projection
of the unconscious is simply elaborated
that the freudian interpretation of dreams has an
element of solipsism in it, which would ensure i could
project anything i wanted in my unconscious (which i have
no control over) and thus... upon wake... be unable
to imagine anything i wanted... which is not true...
since upon waking i can imagine anything i want,
but in the unconscious i can’t dream anything up...
which makes sense why paul mcCartney dreamt up
the song yesterday on the sly, without any conscious effort
other than the mechanical effort of having to note it down & record it.