GAPE CITY

The multitude of complexities that shat from the colon of the future Shrouded the primordial integrity all human beings are borne with

There’s a manhole not to far from here A half a block east toward the bay. At night I slip down into the undercarriage of the city to avoid the drones that buzz above the streets. A lot of the drones hover around the lampposts like bugs used to do. Their unconditional love for artificial light puzzled me. If only humans could have such feelings anymore. The bugs are dead All of them. It was an eradication unlike no other. Only a few humans even noticed them gone. And that was before the tech fused into there meat suits. And the death of despair ran rampant through all social classes. Spreading like a web of mycelium running under the peaty forest floor.

When I finish certain days. These celestial squatters come to my backyard. Frolicking about in the Mind Forest. Reminding me to enjoy the dance of life And keep rooted to the earth;, like the trees. Because they know it true. And are a tangible lens towards interconnectedness. But it’s hard… When the digital window grows like an armature. A slow haunt of tar creeping into the crevices of my mind. And at these darkest moments when I’m crippled by disease… The pangs of lawnmowers sound like wineo dogs. And the humans keep face down; into the digital window. Our souls emanate a plume of smoke. Wineo dogs in the alley with flies laying maggots in their eyes. Maggots that hatch. consuming their peripheral vision Like a compost pile consuming a watermelon rhine in late September I’m burnt out from the digital realm. And put myself out to pasture to see what is real.

Never stop questioning social programming. Don’t let behavior be dictated by social programming codes. When I open My eyes, I look toward the horizon of plasticity. Malleable like the meatloaf in my head. Walking around with this flubber, that can be shaped and molded; like a blank canvas. Taking the world inside my head and coughing it up into the world around me. Until it looks like the world inside my head.

We wrestle in the mud like pigs. Our clothes caked in muddy passion. On the walk back to your apartment we watch toads get run over by passing cars. You show me your Roomate’s hover board and you rode it neighing like a horse through your neighbors garden. I try riding it over the rubble that once was your apartment and it combusts into flame. All the leftovers burned into the rubble, so we slept in your neighbors garden. That night I dreamt of being very small. Small enough to crawl into your mouth while you were sleeping. I crawl down your throat and find my way inside your heart. Trying to light a wet match to reignite the love you had for me. Afterwards, I crawl into your memory and erase the fucked up things I did when I was just a pile of dirty rubbish. We sleep in the garden and I awake to make flapjacks that stack taller than cornstalks. We eat a few and then kiss and we roll over onto the rest of the pancakes laughing until were naked. I pull some sea glass out my ear and you keep it in your special place.

I really never planned on leaving you behind. But our souls calcified and the turmoil of life, “grinded” away our figures into nothingness. Like sleeping with a jaw so tense it plows teeth into dust during the night. I wake in the morning, taking my first breath; accidentally coughing up chalky teeth powder into my cats eyes. My cat sneezes 12 times onto my pillowcase as I head toward the kitchen and open the fridge. The only thing I could eat was my Roomate’s cottage cheese. I hate cottage cheese, but had to ingest something to tame the voices that haunt my head. Afterwards, I sat in every chair the library had within its walls and kept applying powder to numb the teeth-less gums I tragically woke up to. When I heard the loons start calling in the late afternoon, I knew it was time to get a fire going.

I've been escaping from reality repeatedly; in explorations of imagery and the ideas of romanticism. There's a belltower in my mind,that rings out mythical and fairytale themes. These fuse with the grandiose visions that make me feel shit in some utopian sort of way. And the results, flow through my blood. These visions are not visible; But I don’t believe them to be less than true. #gouache #acrlicpainting #watercolor 15” x 20” on cardboard

We pulled and puffed from the robot Penis as we sat in the frame of an old cutlass at the fringe of a forest. The moldy seats and rusty frame were all that was left of the old dinosaur. Kentucky bluegrass was growing through the wheel wells. Looking up at the sky we had front seat view of the sun’s head exploding into space, watching it like a drive-in movie. #catcamel