the dogs keep barking, the birds keep shitting on the car the moon keeps playing games with the ocean and no one can open the vault of stars i was born with a penis. i dont hate it, i just dont identify as it. just like i dont identify with the body that i carry and that carries me. i dont hate it, i dont despise it, but i am not it. just temporarily i experience through it. this body, with this penis, is a rhizome of fluids, symbiotic agencies all entertaining each other, for now. this party will eventually end, and it may have already ended, and this is the afterparty now. an underworld party, slowly melting into some psychedelic pool of undifferentiatable goo. as it was, as it will be. coming and going, to and fro, the sentience of water and fire together produce a third thing that immediately seeks a relative position.
This is pretty ecstatic writing dare. Thank you
surfing the bloodmilksea! Thank you!