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rig 3d
i think /            §
          /  theseus&  /
§ /   the;minotaur
  _/¯_/7          …            8:[

and what! a magnificent [a+]
labyrinth @
daedalus A
=metaphormaterial… (killed it? sorry)
         (let’s continue then)

hey you, ari, who is actually me, hold this string tight.
let’s go:

                                           o º ´

did it. {not that hard}

but i’m young and no one cares.

                    (is that mirror bent and broken so?)
                    (or mere trick of the light?)

time end
good bad
now you see
this be nature

things inevitable
in the grand scheme
this be nature

call absurdity to
old man on side of street
who with sign calls god
god god god see

for god
say he

so he point
mouth and brain
say very
primitive you be
this be nature

this this
be nature


time was
were you
three i
as grow old

there be
distant memory
be you kind to me
distant memory.
time be conceptual
conceptual be time.


feet press
shingle beach
cut through

in form of
imitation of heart



all this

                                                           ­                           drifting


     ­                                                                 ­                                  exist

                   ­                                boulder

                                                                ­                    all
                                         ­                                                                 ­                              
                  end all

The word is meaningless unless you associate it. Four reflections on the banality of language, and the conflict between the spirit and the flesh.
melt crimson pie
buttercup trot
ripple seed drifts
rig Apr 29
the moon is not.
              golden; or sssweet; or – oh…– …sssssssssssyrupy…

and yet i miss it:

rig Apr 24

q birthday ‘luck’ w/ xv mgs of pj zen:


home – a house, really.
good weather. old bed.
sugar intervals,
paramore feelings.
one more special day... right?


right… my
kid was
born when
she was
my age
now – and
laugh when
i don’t
know stuff


when will you find a girl, they say, get married, they say.
[cut to a vase] i work part-time. i wear overalls.
(it's not my birthday)
rig Apr 20
pareidoliate me             all you want

                          but i don't believe in
                                              (              )
                                                          ­     (    )?
           _ __
rig Apr 17
as little butterflies block an astronomical path
                         to draw fleeting halfshadows on the tar
as i scrape the salt from my flushed cheeks
                    with my trembling sugarspoon fingernails
as the way all things~oh hi love of my life
               lessness check out this here xylophone
wanna play old cartoon jingles with
          me i’ll join in sure haha this is fun
right right okaylaterthenbyebye
     hmm wherewasi oh right the thing…

as foreignhome landscapes are looked
                                        upon by me i ponder
                                                     and poorly breathe.

funny dreams. yeah.
           funny dreams.
Hex Apr 12
On a night where no moon shines,
I lie and brood in my confines,
Nocturne's wolf has come to dine,
Gnashing canines with sharpened claws,
Over is night--devoured by the maw,
The wolf opens wide, an unhinged jaw,
I stare in awe, in saccharine fear,
A beastly roar is all I can hear,
Yet I feel no pain--Only a lonesome tear.

I open my eyes to a room bathed in black,
On the floor is a woman, in a dress of lilac,
She stands with a shiver, and turns me her back,
Dark hair covers cracked skin--porcelain but soft,
She stared at me gravely, shaking oft,
Then slowly she danced as I sat and watched,
She twirled, pranced, and spun, but once she botched,
Then she sat, knowing night had its victim notched,
The Ballet of Shadows had come to rest--
     --but not yet had my final test.

I slept again, and woke in the dark,
Now, there was a mirror, a saviour from stark,
Painted in white, it was fit for a monarch,
On top, a remark, a blackened skull,
My reflection itself, appearing so dulled,
My face was blank, and emotion was null,
My eyes were closed, but I could still see,
As I watched my smile twisting with glee,
Crimson nectar now leaking through teeth,

The mirror shell cracked, my nerves were wracked,
From the mirror I retreat, but with me it backed,
My instincts raced, my psyche attacked,
The me in the mirror began to convulse,
Quickening was the beat of my pulse,
Beating like drums, a rhythm repulsed,
Then it stopped, the mirror froze,
And off to sleep I began to doze,
Not before my mirror had one last prose,

One finger raised--be silent, mouth closed.
An experiment with dark and disturbing poetry. Let me know if you think you can decode this one.
JKirin Apr 11
Don’t come near!
I’m talking to you, you hear?
I’m no longer your purposeless teacher.
Here before you now stands a graceless dangerous treacher.
Have you come here to fight, my dearest pupils?
Here, now, I have no scruples—
Fools! Prepare!
about a teacher turning evil
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