A Land Such

A forest thick and lined with pheromone infested apples which fly upwards if plucked. Thieves shrivel, raise their arms and clench their palms, cursing the God who holds a weight greater than the starved and the wretched, still bound to their feet in the litter. Eat Shit!

shoe, a shoe-shoe though we fit in well to breed— sheer tedium, while somewhere else 72 virgins with electric clitorises rub themself on salted bread and men of god, enchanted, fall asleep. Here nothing is asked, nothing is given, so nothing happens, yet we fuck and breed. Here body rises up to block the sun from excavating another inch of land. No! Not you again, something else maybe.

Here imagination crawls back to the garden of Eden not with repentance but the habit of stealing again. A place where food is memory in disguise of an apple and future is shit. Eat and shit day in, day out. Here, madman rules.

Imagine first fuckers without carrying their guilt, or even a temptation in curiosity. Imagine so, for the sake of exercising imagination. Imagine as if anything you imagine would be a secret you could take to your grave. Imagine, if such a takeout was possible. To each a world of theirs and theirs alone, yet fucking and making baby people is possible. Something wants to get somewhere, connect to something, and body is the price. Mutate, mutilate, scratch your arm-pits— change. Imagine, and keep it close to your heart. Imagine something which isn’t there, not yet.