Just knowing that fish exist
Just the fish and that we are not even there to see them. Let no one relay what we already know and even what we don't know.
In bulk and against all odds
Why today,
when I walk into a theatre I want to leave; even to see people I would love to see? Why is it that when I open a book at random, I can't wait to close it again despite everything in it that might interest me? Why do I suffocate in culture?
I want a body that carries me and legs that walk. I feel like not knowing who you are deep down if it means first having to confront your surface friendliness.
I'm a loose sum who can't stand the sterile ordering of thought. Stop your Hollywood gum or Pleiades, I don't care, you see and yet I don't have a gun to go out and tell you. No bowling, no Columbine.
Just the fish and that we are not even there to see them. Let no one relay what we already know and even what we don't know.
My hatred, healthy and simple, pure and shining like a shard of glass in the sun, for the opponents and detractors of marriage for all.
"Innocence of Muslims". Good or bad, it doesn't matter. In no case a film or a work of art whatsoever deserves acts of repression.
Scam; burning lie! The vigour of the body dominates all the wisdom of the old. The human is only true through the bluff of its characters.
Contempt of the flag is now punishable by a fine of 1,500 euros following a decree of the Ministry of Justice published in July 2010 in the JO.
Learning to vomit into the world's great trough, including the one overflowing with culture, is as vital as developing a love of utopia.
The universe may have been born a hermaphrodite. Phrases and languages are the perverse effects of sexual reproduction and the social script.
When you create in a National Space, you don't meet the public, you meet the State. No artist can seriously claim to be free of it.
The paths of art cannot be traced in the footsteps of the voracious institution. Even less so those that only meander along infinite poetic breaks.
Alone beneath you | Like water damage oozing from my ceiling, the wet hair of your pussy disgusts in oblong beads on my flattened forehead.