well, the white page has been redefined -
every immersion i make on these
digital pages of Beelzebub's eyesight is
quiet different - it's hard to be left
hanging on - clingy honey -
you go in, you get the **** out a.s.a.p.,
people still don't know - there's bound
to be a Columbus in one of us minding
some A.I. with real promise and less
science fiction - i mean, we're building
something, i don't mean that in a paranoiac sense
of faith, i mean it as: well, ****'s to hit the fan
at some point, usually -
i don't understand, for example why Freud chose
to interpret dreams rather than daydreams -
i suppose the narcosis wager and the safety-net -
daydreams are more fascinating,
the poor man's replacement of imagination -
people have really treated the internet's blank
page an extension of themselves,
they have, on purpose^, engaged with the internet
means that i get to choose moments on it as
photographs, as inanimate moments of collision,
Newtonian pebbles lodged in what slows down
the speed of light (a blink of the eye) -
i never write on the internet as an extension of me,
my secondary animation - the use of the internet
is my foremost circumstance of inanimate activity -
it is but a presence of a stone i picked up and juggled
and later denounced as boredom riddling -
it is never an extension - as the old writers made blank
pages suit them - i might have written two or three
comments in a reel over the past ten years, but nothing
more - i cannot claim this populist intention a
significance with the apparent overtones of slave
"labour" - for it is just that, monetary dialectics -
too many opinions without a truthful one -
just in order to keep democratic principles of early morning
song of birds - here and there we're all allowed a quack,
but we'd be fooled in treating this quack as a respectable
quill'ed quack. every imprint on the internet
i deem to be a noumenon - a thing in itself -
basically stone-like, inanimate - but never an extension -
thus: you are either a Kantian when using the internet
or you're a Cartesian - 20th century literature won't
help you... the world has moved on... 20th century
literature won't help you! you are either a Kantian
when using the internet, or you're a Cartesian -
with the former you pick up where you left from,
another inanimate portrait unlike Dorian Grey's debacle -
or you become a cybernetics' pawn -
each entry on this poly-interactive white sheet of paper
is a precision for crafting an inanimate spectacle -
it does produce a morbid extension of my use of it -
in order that i might claim it as my basis for character construct;
the world is too big, the reading populace too small -
the writing populace too big - the understanding populace
too infinitesimal - the social strata saying the words:
just leave it, like you might leave graffiti tags on bridges.

^sometimes punctuation does away with a grammatical
  category, i could have written on purpose
  as necessarily - an additional verb, the stated
  body language, the subtle additions are thus compounded -
  the ad-ditional verb is always nuanced in terms of
  what body-language is to be adopted -
  strained... or relaxed? courteous or peasantry-prone?
  the culinary process of eliminating the dessert fork
from the diner spoon - of course exceptions hang prominently
like chandeliers - adjectives come after the nouns
when the nouns discover Aboriginal shamans
of Auschtrillia; a string-theory
arrangement: pipe-smoking Casablanca's quantum twins
selling tourists' memorabilia - a ******* and an
Arabian steed's hoof, including the comedy teeth with
Marx brothers' etched eyebrows.