psychosis and osmosis....
one the soul, the other
simply water...
in dictionary
verbatim:
the passage of a solvent (ego) through
a semipermeable membrane (body) from
a less concentrated (thought) to a more
concentrated solution (soul) until both
solutions are of the same concentration (now) -
and the end of a romance is?
the so called "madness"
becomes a topic less and less used
by writers of fiction,
it becomes genuine,
it also means fiction parasites,
poets included, don't dare to tread
into a goose-march stepping into this Hades....
you don't come round these parts by
yourself... unless you're hoping to
end up dead... or trapped by a dialectical
spiderweb with talking spinders...
you dont get to type this ailment out...
not in the same way you write the
word osmosis....
but then again, in the west you get to
be a victim of a crime: the criminal
gets all the perks and you get
Belgian mud to sniff,
while a monarchy gets to celebrate
its 65th sapphire encirclement...
psychosis should be as clear as
osmosis...
in that we need water....
obviously very few people understand
this...
dein die kopftod...
i call an end to romantics with "madness",
well... given cancer has the prioraties...
so the crowd might
congregate at Golgotha...
i say: walk the, ******* crab!
side-ways, yes, side-ways,
like imitating suicide on a ledge....
you made enough money from the diseases,
true when under the scalpel:
dis- (negated) -ease (do i need
to exfoliate this?) -
i can only see a death of making
certain diseases a case for the worthwhile tale
of selling novels...
i can't imagine exploiting
the said diseases... but if i was born with
a capitalist conscience, i'd hardly think of
possessing a conscience...
i'd say death to the romance
of establishing a literary subject...
i'd prescribe the Koran...
as odd as it might sound...
you don't really hear how
psychosis can really be stated lorem ipsum
ad hoc...
the first you hear is
the miser medatitive attempts in
the medium, precipitating into paranoid
schizophrenia... no more medical than it is:
politico-journalistic...
psychosis and osmosis...
what's the difference... one engages the soul....
the other... water...
the ending is the same -osis...
a verb, an activity self-explanatory
in a name... easily digested via journalistic
sensationalism...
it becomes a death then the "mad" onces
realise you're herding them into a novel
and rather run a half marathon for
the cancer victims...
then ***** begins to turn sticky....
the hierarchy of diseases emerges...
cancer pharaoh... alongside the other adverts
for flu, smomking and lesser diseases...
then they tell you how Muhammad treated
the lunatics like modern Islam might deal with
Sufis...
some would care to say:
these people, are, not, money-dispensing
machines!
but then again...
who gives a ****... i don't even know or care
if you're conscious,
i know that conscience is not part
of your consciousness, then i'm treating you
are semi-coordinate,
probably sleepwalking through your so
called life...
madess has no romance for a novel,
but since you testify to people being mad
only via a model... i can't but expect your novels
to later come from glamour models
writing their ghost-biographies...
ghostwriters... auto- not near
unless bound to refining a.i.,
oh don't worry: only books written
as books necessarily sold...
this has gone beyond pimping
the pompous... it really has...
i can't even be prone to pomp,
i can't believe in writing a book
like i might don a cravat or a beefeaters' uniform...
books have nothing
grand about them...
writing them we're cheap ****... very much akin
to the last ruke on the chess board:
lifestyle journalists with a steady income
from being printed in newspapers...
did you know robots will replace 250,000 jobs
bound to the NHS and Whitehall?
better write scrappy, ******-doo....
they might think you're human...
then i guess it only sounds as the prompt:
write doubly human...
for the added effect...
write like those employed by newspapers,
esp. the opinion columns...
can shove it up their *****...
drink theoir gin & tonics...
think their opinions,
and replace their premature / non-existent
dialectics, by crushing ice-cubes with their teeth.
i can only claim being human
by not romanticising "madness"...
i think it's a tabloid
venture that's, well... deservedly in need of a novel...
i can only suggest the alternative:
stop the romance of "madness",
and stop desiring to write novels about "it",
before you turn and realise
that your sanity was prone to stage
the alternative... zeitgeist and insect
"typo" homily.
oh, it's there... but no one thinks those people
are half-as-cult-like as they,
there's no "secret" / shadow bribing
someone from both ease, and from seeing
an ease for dis...
it's just nice, seeing people pray,
kneel...
play into the hands of a puppeteer...
who may or may not exist...
counter to all the intelligent arguments:
try merely existing, rather than living...
try to state i think therefore i am:
and move it away from forgetting
that you think, and simply live...
most people who express life
hardly ever think...
well... you can't see thought:
meaning their life is not so cyclic
and at the same time limited...
cogito ergo sum is equivalent to
Zeno's paradox...
to occupy yourself with thinking
is to de-occupy yourself with living...
you can try to prove with thought that you
exist, but in that same instance:
your thought means less and less...
since by thinking occupy a finite space...
and with life about you taking its course...
your cogito becomes trapped in a noumenon...
since that your self cannot
express a phenomenon...
given the number of example trapped
in the category of **** sapiens,
this is as natural as taking antibiotics for
a flu... only that it's purely cognitive...
or rather: cogito per se...
cogito per se ergo sum quasi se...
given non cogito est pseudo cogito ergo sum...
mind you: there's no pseduo sum...
we already rule given we can't
turn into the abstract burial ground of hindus
that's a fire... and how we have strated
to build up a phobia for being taken into the earth
for insect food...
even the pagans believed to give the body
a soul, a fire burial...
if that practice remained, there would
be no reference to monotheistic ****...
or we would turn into Chinese omnivores...
i find it bewildering that the Hidus and Chinese
have been so ****** patient with us...
count to 1 billion in English...
years... probably another 1000 years to
reach that number of snooker-player plumbers
and carpenters ready like vulchers...
cos we really needed that "perfected" aesthetic
of a web-page to really, really clog our brains...
thinking that it wouldn't precipitate into
a loss of body, a sudden loss of body,
and the emerges of youth with mental illnesses
akin to premature depression, when depression
was the disease of the old, in the gravity cursing
toward, for ****'s sake! Homer!
yes, the Greek poet!
how can you suddenly expect
to make mentala illness a myth, + a taboo...
when you prescribed people gym memberships...
and a complete lack of manual labour,
having exported it to China...
the ******* on about?
we're suddenly the new Marxist theory samples...
brains in pickle-jars...
completely spineless!
we wanted both mind and body...
instead... the powers-at-be... told us:
you only need a mind... no body...
body belongs to hamster... to the gym...
well... but i really wanted to think crap and hammer
in nails all day... no can do... Chinese have it...
well...
what's the point now?
how else would Islam, not be agitated in prescribing us
a war?
i still find it bewildering that the Chinese
and the Indians (2 billions, and counting)
are so patient with us...
still... you want to know why
there's an escalation in youth mental illness in the west?
you gave their bodies to the Chinese...
no way in the world can their minds (including
my own) ever reach a plateau of an Einstein that
would be satisfactory for the authorities,
to move away from Einstein... and establish
a telekinetic norm (as seen on adverts).