Untitled (Subtle)

I do not lament the polemics that result from a clash of two extremes
Home is both a place and a practice
Home is, of course, a disciplinary mechanism.

Love that vertigo when you’ve run out of feelings & start recycling old ones
My screen protector is definitely the dirtiest part of my body
Once enough kin energy is stored you give it away.

Sext: to convert a song to 432Hz alter its pitch by -.1774
Exact moments before Payne writes Common Sense the silence gains color
The subtler violence of one is in the negative space of the other.

poetry press release for unrealized show (“The Last Airdancer”)

Foucault definitely loved gloryholes
His bathroom stall scribbles were always illegible
One part of governance is erotics
The erotics of boredom and anxiety
No-one wants negative critique at their opening
How you fog up the mirror just to finger your name onto it
This lube only works on social justice warriors
Your sneakers light up when you’re racist
The constant light guides you
So Europe can continue
Here in its tendrils where you stole nothing
Not even nothing
You can’t even imagine giving it back
Nihilists don’t realize it doesn’t matter that nothing matters
But I have an empathy gap toward white people
And under gender coloniality
The state itself gets latched onto the genital Everything subsumed into holes and pricks This American pornographic Victorianism
Like those Gustonish Lee Lozano tool paintings
Closing your eyes is not the beginning of theory
Some say everyone dreams of fucking the dictator In reality sex is completely illegal
The only kinks are sneeze fetishes and minions
But the only way to say I love you is with fisting
A lie is not only a lie
Trump’s micropenis does not absolve you
Your performative divestment is escapism
I come to you with dreams of a cleaner kind of valve
A value without value
Dick like bonsai
No ghost ever sold away her iPod
We let our stomachs get all full of plastic
White emo band says blood is the last ocean
Foucault rushes in, fresh out the shower
In his bathrobe like on the cover of a book
His bullet head, tweed face
My beard flush with his kisses
Home is not only a disciplinary mechanism, he says
Would you ever order a Real Doll of yourself?

If I Could Vote, I’d Vote for Cardi B

Our lady of those bags full of other bags
my mom always keeps under the sink back home
Help me be patient with the cave mayonnaise

The demon in my inner ear
tells me that a lack of hell is robotic
She reminds me to celebrate the Titanic today
That’s what you get for taunting God
And masturbating with fancy sauce

Guilt is the fantasy i anchor myself with
A sanctuary of displaced landfills

As European labor cognitivized, so too did alienation: being white means being alienated from how violent and wasteful your existence is. You faintly hear from far away some managerese about agile social workflow engagement rate application methodologies.

Think of it as a claim to desublimation. In other words: White women tossed aside the wages for housework picket signs, entered the workforce, and hired black and brown women to do domestic labor for almost nothing. The old American way: animal white infant suckling a dark nipple, cooing for the absent referent. A cuckold encased in amber.

Yes, finally you have reached the poison
You tell me say yes to the dress
To pursue this lean in poetics by any means necessary

Apparently, not shaving is only feminist if you have a white pussy
I mean that’s chill you identify as an animal
But I often got called a monkey growing up
So forgive me if it seems like I’m humoring you
And I know now to treat white people like pets
The trick is to put a Starbucks in the gulag

As MF Doom says, living off borrowed time the clock ticks faster
When you’re stolen you’re stolen
All your affect is carceral
I know you see the blood of slaves and natives on the walls too
All the undocumented maids in the country couldn’t clean it
So you treat self-actualization as a branding exercise
Bad faith as a trick of the light

Hoping you don’t see that same charred face you see every night
Like Spinoza in his study, hoping the world is an idea in God’s mind
This would mean none of the violence is real

By the way how will you live without phallic metaphors
Rehab is always an option
Concepts are the dream of the citizen
This is what they prepared you for
In your glee you get deputized as a monster
All reverse empaths are fascists


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