In-finite Loop

grazing edges mark my skin as i slide along the border of my sanity.  insomniac motion mediates this recollection of stimuli as i break the usual pieces in a different pattern. frantic commotion mediates this uneasy stressful feng shui as i fall expectedly yet out of synchronicity with this pseudo world of mine… under this finite sky i spiral soaked in rain, burned in sun rays or tasting shades of rainbow, not always knowing which… with the underwater sealing my wounds as it opens deeper into a bottomless space in finite cycle… i travel inside-up-down side on this infinite loop of life & despair & horror in beautiful manic depressive splendor. “We die struggling to get born.” Henry Miller.


bad: adrenal.ine

all sense is arrested all reasoning is neglected in your energetic haze whether CMYK or Grayscale once you take over I am ablaze my soul in disgrace my mind disarrayed in the midst of this adrenal rush of scrambled signals making my biological clock run out of sync with no guide in this maze I am left in dark abandon lost in this warped transmission my paranoid stricken self is gone perhaps forever then in the blink of an eye my architecture gives way to the inevitable thus my walls crumble under the weight of our depression and my dysphoria as I disconnect under attack drowning in this adrenal rush that propels this anxiety and feeds this hatred that although not mine it is present seducing my hostile vulnerability that I display in variable degrees of hypersexual ways as my racing mind wanders in pseudo-suicidal trance fueled by the surge of your lively energy I both need and crave yet is often denied but for now it doesn’t matter because I feel you caressing the insides of my grandiose ego though I am not fooled:

You are my bad adrenaline, and I, your defiant muse.


I am and You are in excess. Over the brim. You contaminate my everything leaving your burning dirty stain on it all. Tabula rasa obsolete this disdain this soul not even half complete feeds my anger until I stretch and twist until I block your way. In excess we concede and recede taking turns in this our intertwined destiny. Spilled drink. Broken shards of glass reflecting half- rainbows and stabbing me until I bleed inevitably to my last drop of watered sanity... In excess-ed.


“…there is one thing which can stitch and hold the wound…” M.Z. Danielewski


tHERE iS aN oThErNeSs In Me ThAt EvEn I cAn’T gEt. ThE pIeCeS aRe HeRe ShApEs AnD cOlOrS rIgHt BuT tHeY dOn’T qUiTe FiT. tHeRe Is An OtHeRnEsS iN mE tHaT pErMeAtEs EvErYtHiNg. ThE wOrLd MoVeS bUt I’m HeRe StAnDiNg FrOzEn In ThIs OtHeR dImEnSiOn. ThErE iS An OtHeRnEsS iN mE tHaT nOnE cAn SeE bUt I eVeR-fEeL aNd HaS bRoKeN eVeRy MoLd. ThErE iS aN oThErNeSs In Me tHaT i HaD tHoUgHt i TrAnScEnDeD bUT tImE eLaPsEd AnD iT’s LaTe FoR mE. tHeRe Is An OtHeRnEsS bUt So FaR bEyOnD mE aNd HeRe We UnFoLd AgAiN.


zap of energy-1,2,1,2- time tick tocking but we aren’t in sync with this flow of ideas ray of creativity long past due so exciting ’til i’m raging zapped by paranoia-1,2,3,2,1- distractibility leads me to a locked exit with more anxiety attacking me ’til i’m frozen paralyzed except these 1/2 formed words & sounds trying flight out of my head but only crashing with this depressive sky-wall thick in my brain with transitory 1/2 suicidal ways & i’m still on my feet immobile unable to initiate anything plain flatlined my self suspended in limbo: zapped by avolition ray of irrationality with time tick tocking towards my selves gone insane.
‘Nothing’s All.’
J.Truant, House of Leaves