What am I in this instant? I’m a typewriter making the dry echo in the dark, humid dawn. I haven’t been human for a long time. They wanted me to be an object. I am an object. An object dirty with blood. An object that creates other objects and the machine creates us all. It makes demands. Mechanisms make endless demands on my life. But I don’t totally obey: if I have to be an object, let me be an object that screams. There’s something inside of me that hurts. Oh, how it hurts and how it screams for help. But tears aren’t there in the machine that is me. I’m an object without a destiny. I’m an object in whose hands? such is my human destiny. What saves me is the scream. I protest in the name of what’s inside the object behind the behind of the thought-feeling. I’m an urgent object–Clarice Lispector
[[ :: in exquisite detail, waiting to be recognised which is the true Narcissus?
:: as if trapped inside a holograph that contains itself like a reflection of a reflection :: :: ]]
:: [[ the iris :: a kaleidoscope censoring
bandwidth into a prisoner’s cinema ]] ::
[][][][][]:: a mirror
:: :: :: :: :: before reflection
a pattern :: ::: ::: ::::
before choice::[][][][]
:: :: :: it is to the zone of antagonism that the image adheres :: reality discriminators [:[are all too]:] real a two-way mirror :: :: ::
:: ::: Wear your shadow inside out. Stitch constellations into its spine. Now speak in the heat-death dialect of extinguished galaxies ::: it is the :: smoldering grammar :: of light too slow to save anything ::: ::
:: before you even know what it is, [[::Y/O///U///R::]] reflection’s there, an algorithm of algorithms besotted with its reflections the representation-effect
:: it is a surveillance state without need of an overseer :: were this nothing but dialectical convolution :: a spiral of [silent] interrogations ::
[surveillance] without eyes ::
the watcher is the watched is the void ::
::: Swallow a mirror. Let your reflections shatter inside you :::
Now speak in the voice of the broken glass ::: sound ::
it is the :: hemorrhage :: of language trying to solder itself back into a lie. :::::: :::
Every : syllable glints :: it is the :: ricochet ::
of every reflection that ever caught a death::: It is the :: anti-sound ::
of a prism vomiting its own light ::: :::
:: from which it is otherwise indistinguishable the image is both political and ontological :: :: the image is not an image it is a sleeper cell :: ontopolitical ideology accumulated to such a degree :: :: ideology, molten, becomes the tectonic ontic :: ::
The shadow that grows teeth and bites its caster
:: A threshold | | thresher ::
vector, velocity, and behavioral imprint of
:: the cryptofission :: imposter ::
:: :: it becomes its own historical dialectic instantaneous monadologies at world’s end :: :: holo-fragments of non-history at zero hour :: ::
:: Bones are just frozen pirated echo. Splinter them into
new alphabets of scream :: the jawbone as a guillotine for glossolalia insurrection
:: :: ::
:: :: :: all meaning is artificial intelligence :: :: ::
:: ::
Exist in the
superposition of
sliced tongue /
:: Let them ::
compose
::
your epitaph
in venom-glyphs
:: ::
:: ::: inside marble:
an echo of volcano
:: inside the mimic ::
a future predator
unmade :: :::
:: ::a faux-terrain of pixel-scavengers :: ::
( vending stolen lumens )
:: :: ::
A ghostly ventriloquism
of forms,
but always off
always estranged
:: ::
:: the tribe of fantasists the fantasy of the tribe a pas-de-deux in the Cartesian theatre for an audience of convex mirrors ::
its larynx a :: PARTICLE ACCELERATOR OF CONTRABANDED PSALMS ::
its silence a :: CRYPTOGRAM ETCHED IN THE BONES OF DEAD AND SACROSANCT RADIO WAVES ::
[[ :: where a [:: face ::] is the blur in the condensation :: ]]
:: :: :: [[ Seam your shadow to that of a nameless wanderer, using filaments of spider silk imbibed with the brooding smoke of a dying eclipse ]] :: :: ::
:: cosmic glare to 8-bit epiphany ::
Life appears: a complex dampness, destined to an intricate future and charged with secret virtues, capable of challenge and creation. A kind of precarious slime, of surface mildew, in which a ferment is already working. A turbulent, spasmodic sap, a presage and expectation of a new way of being, breaking with mineral perpetuity and boldly exchanging it for the doubtful privilege of being able to tremble, decay, and multiply–Roger Caillois
:: DIFFRACTIONS :: 