poetic violence
Poetry can only be violence, it must be pure violence, and it definitively misses its object when it renounces its being violence, because then it detaches itself and abandons the human
I came back from the land of the people / Centaur of the revolution / I rode all the way around on my own back / Sometimes it's all right
Sports, nothing but sports without a state of mind and no sex with women at this time because the manly friendship, too, is falling apart...
...but what's the connection between two genuflections? Between two blowjobs? Between two genu-fella xions? Have we ever had intercourse?
Artists really do make up a breed of misery that I loathe. Worse still, the art lover: the idiot ends up in a pure state...
Le Cabaret | The vital essence of the stage, an immoderate taste for exhibition, an obscene face-to-face encounter with the audience, immersion in murky waters and delicious spit.
Pretty as a pussy that would look good as a steak! Appetite and voracity for sex representations put in all sauces.
"Please find my wife, but don't call my parents..." Driving the wrong way in search of vehicle collisions, crumpled metal sheets and regain the memory of his atoms.
A couple chained to the piano in the living room awaits the earthquake of his break-up. A couple that we make accidents out of. The earth is populated by its inconsequences.
The rock'n roll dream of being awesome, consumable, disposable. The Attraction Parks respond to the need to centrifugate our bits and pieces of identity.
Dress up, choose your mythology, live and die at will. It remains to be seen which "society of the spectacle" you choose to promote.
