Suddenly it was a mess
Wipe the trail left by your fly. Your love in return should be shat in your mouth.
Running away and roaring
In our world, where everything is a matter of representation, rituals are hidden behind social pettiness. "And good day," says the shopkeeper.
Wipe the trail left by your fly. Your love in return should be shat in your mouth.
Me, I spend my nights in the shelter. From everything. Sheltered from you, in spite of your suavely mellow voice that's so concerned with radio, hygienic and concerned.
Why is it that when I walk into a theater, do I want to leave? Why when I randomly open a book, do I look forward to closing it?
Sorry, coming through! You have no right to stop me from passing! I have nothing to reproach myself for. I've always been in order with the administration. I'm sorry!
Single images / Multiple images / Sober images / Dirty images / I dream of audible images on vast, taut skins that would resonate with their senses
It's not a question of being in good terms with anyone who doesn't want to be, nor of "making society", yuck once and for all! It's about deserving one's supposed brain capacities as an evolved individual. There is a price to be paid for becoming human: not just being.
A little brutality in this world of poetry. No kidding. You don't really think I want to meet humans, do you? You're not my face. You're not my project.
As Victor says about the spider and the nettle - not Dr. Frankenstein, but his friend old Hugo - I love hate because we hate it.
My great adaptability is an absolute violence to me. I hate any relationship that forces me to do so. Rare is the one that goes the way I want it to.
Most of us are prey and we would like to do without predators. What will we be capable of without claws and fangs?