The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

Dence and Broke slow-dance and movement echo
  s/he comes out poised, maximum / minimum burrows in your dreams maquette for augmented reality
  s/he shudder again orgone

i am sick and tender. i am sick of being sick. i am sick of sweetness. of
hallucinatory fevers that aren't there. of burning behind my eyes. that
burn through virtual lands i cannot go thru & into. sick of borders.
anonymous masked guards that smell of slaughter. so yes it's true i make
this beauty. i mask this beauty. i hold my breath in the stench of
slaughter and make this tenderness. i design this sweetness in the horrors
of quakes and killing fields. i design hallucination in the midst of
plague. in the midst of sickness i design sickness. in virtual lands i
design the real. i design the real with the hardness and sickness of the
real. orgone i shudder again and design this tiredness. i design this
tiredness and sick.

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