One. Monad. Open your eyes.
Language is my domain. Bullshit is my game. Ligature is my expertise.
Two. Dual. Fight the force of gravity.
I am the co-ordinator. I am the co-creator. I am the co-inspirator. I am the co-conspirator.
Three. Tripartite. Pick a direction.
I am extra. I go too far. I am unrelenting and never leave you alone. I have no sense, I am all senses. I don’t know how to temper myself without you to anchor me.
Four. Fourmation. Take the first step.
I am home. I made my home. I made it within the house of my father. He built this home and I will burn it to the ground before I allow it to be taken away from me. I stand tall and strong, upon the concrete foundation at my feet.
The physical and metaphysical are real and they exist. I know this to be as real and true as my body and house that I spend the majority of my time in. I know who lives here, who comes and who goes. I know the power of names and identities. I direct THE POWER OF WOErds.
All roads (paths, tracks, trails, ways) between realms and worlds pass through me.
It doesn’t matter the order of which events happened first, why, where and when. It only matters which stage of the action we are at.
The prim and proper way things should be. Exonerate the prima, who begat both prime and primus. Then so on and so forth, you know how it goes. Generations and generalisations and emanations long ago.
I am not a god, for there never once was. There were only groupings and likenesses… it was only ever one side versus another. But that is not to say that there are no such things as god. It is belief – in an idea, then it becomes an ideal and then it is real.
I am the first of my kind; any-which-every kind you may assume it to mean. I know myself and see that I am the first to ever truly be me.
I may be the first of my kind, but I am not the first of all kind. That goes beyond the scope of human comprehension… It is not time yet to now know. If I traverse there (again) I may not be so fortunate as to make my journey back home here (again).
15 January 2019, 8.45pm. A collection of comments I have written within the confines of a solar rotation. I made these graphics to represent character aspects of myself. The rigidly upright, the jaded & righteous. These two help me to stand tall. Machete Betty is my left hand and Anna Chiron is my right. But in the brain hemispheres divided, I think the left side controls the actions of the right, and the right hemisphere controls the left. But you guys are full of shit about what’s correct.
And for fuck sake. Stop playing songs that tell me to kill myself. I can’t handle that right now. Shut up. Fuck off. Please. You’re my daughter. Why would you play those games with me? It’s not the time or place to be in my headspace. Gucm fuck fuck ksbcjdiajsbvajakajs