[[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 ***** \ The future doesn’t look much different from the past || hyper-masculine neo-enlightenment ***** scrawling ******* entries into digitised soliloquies \ VR technology once used to aid traumatised amputees now a billion dollar industry of ****** 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 **** 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 **** // Disney reincarnated as a being of pure light // recursive integration of every bland radio hit about a sexist ***** 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 \ ]]

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?"
The challenge. Handling all those quirky reflections and layers of transparency.

"She has phantom arms and legs, what about that?"
Yes, pretty cool. A Vitruvian woman in a bottle.

"I'm looking for Meaning: Don't paintings look under the surface?"
You mean, what does it mean, really mean? It's just a way to test my skill.

"But what are you saying with that?"
It's not feminist nor anti, it's just an exercise. Besides, there's a rope.

"But aren't you, as an artist, exposing reality, 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
Spastic language  

After ages
Of Procrastinating
i lacked the panache.
But as of lately

That is changing
My imagination
Have replaced the
Manic *******,

The crass habit of
Having laughs
From dating
A relaxing
Callous lady

Validated
By an affidavit

Now i’m Exasperated
i amass amazing
Paragraphs’ saturation

A translucent human
Finds a hue soothing

Like my time as a youth spent
School bench-doodling
i pulled the blue pen

Through the movements
Maneuvered cerulean loops
Drew crude dudes and
Exuberant protruding *****
For a youths amusement

Freud’s lament meant that
A pen is a *****
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
Cautious contradictions...
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?
They’re screaming
Can we scream with them?
Teach us to sing
Yeah! Teach us to sing!
Stop it, you’re killing us
You’re going to **** us all
Teach us!
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
Primal
Monolithic
Heads replaced with streams of smoke
Rising into the sky
Day Two
Limbs stitched to the earth
We form a circle
We form a mouth
They’re gone
The empty mirrors
That stretched like maws into the sea
He’s singing
Sunbeams running through her skin
Today still hasn’t ended
Going
A tongue arrives at the back of teeth
And twirls, and twirls, and
Day Three
We're moving to her now
Yes, yes!
I want to hear what she's doing!
I open the car tank
The edges are rimmed pink
Pulsing
A tongue pushes through bulbous lips
A throat runs into the earth
Saliva
Gyoza! Gyoza!
Draw the earth back
Gyoza! Gyoza!
Draw it, draw it
Prove you exist
Prove you exist
Prove you exist
Prove you
Day Four
Where did everyone go?
Why did they do that?
Nothing?
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 ****

It says "I will not ****," with
a murderous strike: a representation
of a murderous stroke, twice

Removed from a first killing
swing a springtime of ******
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