when you return home you are always 16. and i am living in that, living
endlessly filth of modern adolescence endlessly forever and ever amen. and i have lost
the smooth twisting of words, i have lost language. when i am halfway around
the world, will you regret how you treated me? when people run in media they always
find love/aesthetic/humanist/romance — we are all automized but look we are now
carefully and loosely bounded to another. sex with plastic perfect bodies, i am
jealous. when i run in media i am reminded — this is not media, this is existentialism these are
words and debates i cannot win cannot properly use / you will loose everytime you will run
and no one will chase you. this is family, this is community. i did not feel anything i burnt
the village down.
poem: elegy
the last pavilion 