sleep, the dream people.
i’m part of a pillow sandwich every night, i place myself in between the sheets prepare myself to be part of the sumptuous depths of this dreamland. the more comfortable i am, the more delicious i will look. i want to enter the infinity. to be engulfed whole by the bouncers of this trip and into their digestive system we float asleep in one zone, awake and conscious in another. sometimes,...
through the hyperlinks
an infinite corridor of hyperlinks, the web of personalities, mild to extreme. hidden behind the glowing words, the key of the magic white glove. tabteleport. another window, another world. the letters like curtains, you step through the doors made up of letters. clue.
yet, i still find my mind is this local small city of a home frame of mind, not box, not with bars as dense a cage, but the sort of piet mondrian frame, the composition with (yellow, blue & red) x 2, these 6 faces and 12 edges and 8 dainty corners.
chora is the transient space/the moment when internet reality meets real life. its the moment you connect with the anonymity of the internet, meet a soul, put a name and face to the persona. its when a digital relationship becomes real.
that is all.
tutu of particles
In the near future, everyone’s presence will be demarcated by their network strength, the radius in which, their mobile devices conquer. In a true to star wars battle, this invisible energy would have morphed with an individual’s aura. This generation of nu energy, morphology of particles, duality of waves and trichotomy of being will define the new person. Still natural and human at...
your core self, you grow up like flotilla, a sphere(an onion) or a polyhedron, the cube, a rubik’s cube, curve of the forces that rotate you round with all the possible combinations you could reveal of yourself. everyday, you either stay comfy with that odd barcode of megapixel combinations, or you roll out and unfold and unravel these faces and areas of surface you never knew existed. you...
you are a soft soul, now plugged in, the electrons that flow as they glow beautiful through the forest of fibre optics. these forests are thick, beyond baobabs, a capillary system like no other. secret server fortresses built to narrow the micro seconds, these homes that house the humming, are rock solid. they hum infinitely, though they cough every now and then. I write from such a lay...
process igniting thought, they only float and fly, a sky of silk scarves, pegasus anatomised, in fuschia’s that tint the light, work room flows. pink. rose. warmth. they bob. contrast of the inked silk daintily ebb and flow to the soft hum of the mechanized feeding it horizontally, while it courtesies individually, in eager anticipation enroute its maturity that will grace the neck of...
you’d be amazed how the thoughts lack in the craftman’s mind, the blade on its choreographed travels, across only the finest leather landscapes, patterns cut out from the unravelled skin hide, human around the edges. negative space appears on the templates now hung on with pegs before daylight. they could have been inverted curtains, cow spot projecting, as the with the wind....
trapped heat & sun hickeys
I’m a burnt bunny, no lessons learnt, radiating heat like an oven, thought the back of the portable air conditioner was emitting hot air, but it was from the highly active convection current circulating within the thin gap between my thighs and the bathrobe draped over me.
the simplicities of life, strawberries, lemons, goji/red berries on the beech/oak light softwood cutting board, the squishiness vs the stable base,do you ever feel like a cutting board, sacrificial? the shield that saves all the battle scars. the sweet of strawberry, the strawberry pink juice slips out from the sides of your mouth,the purse of your lips, the kiss, strawberry...