GENESIS
That light, that miserable light. Smug as sunshine. I see its stupid secret geometry. It isn’t compelling at all whatsoever. The colors shift before I can speak to any of them. Rude. Terrible. My face is twisted to a grimace by its technicolor mockery. I glow brighter, don’t you know? You are a hanged man. Your Sisyphean efforts are for naught. You will never be the moon.
PHEROMONES
Your lap, ah, I could die here, buried in you. Why shouldn’t I die here? Could I die here? Someday, yes. I knew a man who died once. . .and I thought I died, once. Maybe I’m the ghost of an angel. I did die here, in your lap. My crooked body fell to ash, but my spirit remains. Here. We’ll be forever, intertwined, runny eggs, twin yolks. Strange coincidences surround us. Everything is the same. Oceans, neurotransmitters, sandwiches, 50mm rounds. We are only atoms. Nothing is real but you. It’s sickening. You’re here, yes, and I’m here, yes, but the world tears me away. They have no idea everything is fake. Gravity will kill us all. Nothing makes sense but us.
CAPITAL
Secret Clinical Strength Deodorant. Building a website on Shopify is so easy. I can save tremendous amounts of money on my car insurance through Liberty Mutual. (I hate that wretched bird and his stupid fucking boyfriend) PAYING FULL PRICE FOR OZEMPIC?! . . .Oh, before? Sorry, actually. They make deodorant with sand now. Vampiric Billionaire Sells Eternal Youth. AMERICA. IS. BOOMING. McDonald’s sends me a flirty text. I should probably kill myself. Some Democrat is begging for money. These mints make you better at oral sex. Pack a lip of Viagra dip! Vitamin vapes more toxic than gas station carts. Fake Rolexes. Bud Light is NOT fag beer. Endless “””crafts.””” Programming a machine to laser-engrave motivational quotes is not art. It is not handmade. You buy Chinese trinkets in bulk & place them underneath your bastard computer. Your margins are 90%. You sell at crafts markets, ren faires, anime conventions, ANYTHING. Your machine can burn manga panels onto coasters. I hope it burns your house down.
DESCENT
This goddamn hallway goes on for eternity. I hate this labyrinthian hotel. There is a dark staircase I’ve never seen, and the concrete hurts my feet. The light blinks when we make eye contact. It is an extremely nauseating descent, and I am clearly not supposed to be here. Where have the good stairs gone? I try to hold the wall but the texture hurts my fingers. I miss the good stairs. Everything breathes. This goddamn hallway goes on for eternity.
These glasses make everything impossible. I take them off, and it is as though I’ve just opened my eyes for the first time. Is this the real world? Am I meant to be half-blind? Who am I to cast fate aside? My world is meant to be blurry. Is that beautiful? Is it terrible?
FURTHER
My phone is a window to the world; it is a thing of unimaginable power & beauty. Images extend beyond its rose gold salt circle. Whatever font Microsoft Word™ uses is deeply nauseating. Bullshit essay. Stupid fucking bullshit. I grab a trashbag & prepare myself. The keyboard is moving. This bullshit essay is due in 47 minutes. I am, metaphorically, (that is, as opposed to “literally,” which would not be correct in this case) completely fucked. An internet stranger is completing my sentences. I wonder if we’re soulmates—my girlfriend can never know. Serj Tankian refuses to leave me alone. What is he trying to tell me??? It’s too yellow for this air of paranoia.
Something distills from the ether, finally; a vision, a message from beyond the perilous kaleidoscope consuming me. Something that echoes but never screams. It all makes sense now, the point of all this, the truth hidden in the shapes:
I AM A BEING MADE UP OF DISCORDANT BUT EQUAL PARTS
ASCENSION
SO! So, then, I suppose I’m feeling. . .so-so, suffice to say. Spinning, starving. . .Oh! Soda, yum! so long as it’s sugarless; some saccharine soft drink. Yes, surely sips of soda should satisfy shriveled stomachs. Sadly, somehow, said syrupy salvation slipped my sight. supermarkets and service stations sleep. Starlit sidewalks stretch for centuries. Sirens and street-sweepers sing witching hour serenades. Sideshow specters snicker in the shadows. Sweet sleep sings scintillating songs.
But she eludes mmee
she eluudse me1!
aber still, thojgh,. .
ich habe keine Angst
the r0z garden 
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