Walked near her slowly,
Brushed with hand, breathing slowly,
She came closer, shaking,
Warm, quite, soft...
Her eyes were shing like a moon,
They were telling way too much,
I've start to play with her with hand,
Slowly put her legs apart...
Hand was filled with warmth of her soft breast,
Movement up and down she been waiting for...
Then thrill pierced inside of me,
And white liquid dripped..
At that moment i felt enravishment,
That's how i milked a cow for a first time...
[[More real than the real, that is how the real is abolished]] de facto slogan to the virtual economy \ Reality has collapsed through its own fiction || rummaging through boxes // a DVD from the 2001’s states [[the future of gaming is here]] opening with ten minutes of nauseating zooms on women’s asses \ The future doesn’t look much different from the past || hyper-masculine neo-enlightenment fucks scrawling wet dream entries into digitised soliloquies \ VR technology once used to aid traumatised amputees now a billion dollar industry of condom throwing simulators for bored middle-class kids \ Parents watch awkwardly from the corner of the room too disconnected from reality to connect with irreality \ Two and the same \ Silicon synapses pass through trade routes of jutting ribs and serotonin receptors \ White America a botnet of alt-right neoliberal fundamentalist-atheists gutting the majority world so everyone can watch Doctor Strange // Marvel’s latest explosive wank from the libidinal imagination of a middle-aged idiot \ Thanatos and Eros arrive at the same destination to dismantle subliminal desire one commodity at a time \ The sublime never experienced // only destroyed // consumed in the inverted maw of late-stage capitalism where each irruptions of desire is more banal than the previous \ Banality the ultimate distraction from apathy // a pseudo-cyclical time dilation of ever accelerating proportions \ Soon nothing will be experienced at all and Rotten Tomatoes will give it a 99% score \ When the singularity hits everyone will be too brain dead to care that they’re god \ 24-7 VR porn // Disney reincarnated as a being of pure light // recursive integration of every bland radio hit about a sexist prick at a club // irreality shocked into neurons bypassing sensual phenomena // an all encompassing warmth // veil of death // eyecaps dragging flesh closed // backup released // no escape // digitised irreality // holographic Disney dancing on the train home // notice of termination swiped away as junk mail // all beings arrive // transcend circuitry // fly through the cosmos watching every episode of Friends at once \ Didn’t you know? [[The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of banalisation \ ]]
The Theories of Sigmund Freud
There are anti-depressive drugs, mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety drugs, and anti-psychotic drugs.
If you're abnormal,
The psychiatrists can make you normal again,
If you're uncomfortable with psychiatrists,
Marijuana has been decriminalized.
So, there are various
"Designer Strains" of Marijuana out there
To "help people with their problems",
What I'd like to know is,
If Freud's Theories are outmoded,
Why do so many people
Have toilet problems?
Why are so many of them
Full of shit?
Why are so many of them
According the the "Failed Messiah" Website,
There is a lot of sexual abuse of boys in the Hasidic Jewish Community.
However, I don't think that this sexual abuse of boys
Is UNIQUE to Chasidic Jews.
There must be a lot of boys
Who are "gettin' it up their butts".
What I'm sayin' might be ruffling a few feathers.
Maybe, you (the reader) is one of those people
Who have trouble
Letting Go of Shit.
I take lots of herbs to help my Liver Functioning,
In order to let go of as much shit as possible.
I might be able to avert the suggested "colonoscopy"
When I reach a certain age.
I haven't experienced any anal penetration yet,
And I don't think I would enjoy this procedure,
Even if it is performed by Medical Personnel.
I will TRY not to be an ass hole,
But please leave my butt alone.
All my feelings have disbanded
They've gone and left me stranded
Of every emotion I am void
I need to talk to someone like Freud
This feeling of nothingness, leaves me past the brink
For now into TURE insanity I sink
Only the truly insane will not care
If they close the lid and leave you no air
For guilt will not play it's part
For the insane has no heart
You can take a knife and plunged it in
Make me pay for all my sins
I really don't care who dies
Not even if it's I
There will be not one tear to cry
For all my emotions, the good and bad
Have disappeared, it should make me sad
But it don't
Don't ask me to care, I can't and I wont
"So why are you painting a woman in a bottle?"
It's a learning painting. I want to see if I can handle all those layers of transparency and quirky reflections.
"But she has a set of phantom arms and legs, what about that?"
Yes, pretty cool. A Vitruvian woman in a bottle.
"I'm looking for Meaning: Don't paintings symbolize things?"
You mean, what does it mean, really mean? I had an idea: Can I really do graphical justice to an absurd, but challenging situation?
"But what are you saying with that?"
It's not feminist nor anti, it's just a technical exercise.
"But aren't you, as an artist, exposing reality and interpreting, presenting emotions and feelings, seeing the soul?"
I'm not on a soapbox-- I'm testing my skill-- I paint and don't think about it too much. After all, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar' or is it 'just a smoke'?
"I don't like your message."
OK, I'll paint you in a bottle...
As a shrunken head.
Hi i’m Sebastian
i’m an addict
Addicted to frantic
i lacked the panache.
But as of lately
That is changing
Have replaced the
The crass habit of
By an affidavit
Now i’m Exasperated
i amass amazing
A translucent human
Finds a hue soothing
Like my time as a youth spent
i pulled the blue pen
Through the movements
Maneuvered cerulean loops
Drew crude dudes and
Exuberant protruding boobs
For a youths amusement
Freud’s lament meant that
A pen is a penis
i comment these tittles of i’s
Are eyes at a zenith
With these i see things
Don’t ask what an asterisk is
But believe me i’ve seen it
I took a class in psychology,
But who could ever hope to know
The inner wanderings of a lost soul,
The mechanisms making you tick,
You, conflicting conundrums and
You have classically conditioned my mind
To fumble over your chapter,
With your classical ways..
Heuristics never applied to you,
You are Freudian; hopelessly undefinable
And impossibly right
There are obsidian mouths
I’m edged white
Where is the light?
Can we scream with them?
Teach us to sing
Yeah! Teach us to sing!
Stop it, you’re killing us
You’re going to kill us all
Can’t you see?
We’re trapped here
The grass is dead
The sky is dead
Teach us vocal stretches!
No one is listening
They’re dancing between the mouths
Heads replaced with streams of smoke
Rising into the sky
Limbs stitched to the earth
We form a circle
We form a mouth
The empty mirrors
That stretched like maws into the sea
Sunbeams running through her skin
Today still hasn’t ended
A tongue arrives at the back of teeth
And twirls, and twirls, and
We're moving to her now
I want to hear what she's doing!
I open the car tank
The edges are rimmed pink
A tongue pushes through bulbous lips
A throat runs into the earth
Draw the earth back
Draw it, draw it
Prove you exist
Prove you exist
Prove you exist
Where did everyone go?
Why did they do that?
Nothing at all?
But what about us?
What will happen to us?
She's changed and
much more sensitive
than she used to be like:
She'll cry if something
is sad enough to cry
about and say "how sad!"
To herself, she says
softness can be a reverse
blade sword that cannot kill
It says "I will not kill," with
a murderous strike: a representation
of a murderous stroke, twice
Removed from a first killing
swing a springtime of bloody
youth and creative expression
Exists in the ego only and
the line between signs a
flash of the you in the universe
How natural and harsh, such
lovely waste: an amazing
mazing system of constructing