the temple you make with your fingers up! Sun Nostalgia. Tepid in the palm, being equal to having no fishhook or half-sleep. If you read this:
Yesterday - yes? ... "The moon, this hour." exotic apple transformed as reports from through alabaster fingers. Do come! together like bits of juice written life scripts stone floating where space is inside the cows
And you, your murky nirvana-- Dislodged dream you tap. Pull it out with your fist. -pink bitterness. wake My habit to key-note
Voodoo open hinge Epiphany for God's short letter "To be all wind."
A cut-up poem by Erik Vloeberghs, principally based on cut-up poems found on the Internet. Yeah, right! Written February 13th 2005, slightly revised November 5th 2005.
sitting naked at the bottom of the circumstances 70 tons of flute and we follow the Mercury sandals eventually be relieved of SOS the cover of the horrible images is my square food and the tall sickness waits
fade out to Gothenberg do not believe erogenous holes and pepper show them how ugly "Reality" can be Meditation? Hiroshima is gleaming pleasure I must fight with candle in ass and the tall sickness waits
the worst is yet to come from the Sudden Inspiration Department your army lost the "detour sign" a Biological Law reverse switch is taking over and the tall sickness waits
Another item of February 13th 2005 served by Erik Vloeberghs and again based on the works of the great William S. Burroughs. Cut-up the cut-upper !!
we might start with a smile it is a day like any other I offer you nothing void everywhere, calculating love? with whom?
"I don't remember" the crust from the beginning to understand tortured metal typical leak out know eventually not relieved SOS the music shifted heavy metal state
writers the distant voices and the reformed "Everything is just fine," he said do not believe insect screams it's all the same, the Reality Film broke all good things come from the hypochondriac
Cut-up poem by Erik Vloeberghs, principally based on works by William S. Burroughs. Originally written February 13th 2005, small revision November 5th 2005.
Tortured metal typical leak out Know eventually be relieved
Blocks of SOS heavy metal state
"I don't remember" love with whom? The Reality Film blurred. Reformed, transformed as reports from the Grey Veil The crust from the beginning to understand
The calculating music, the distant voices Shifted and reformed through alabaster fingers
Iron claws of authority quash the old area
Mined guards everywhere in the Sex Shop
In the Ovens and behind the muddy waters of Norway It's the same everywhere: Reality Film broke
Across the sky there is a smell of Sodom who can stab the window
It is a day like any other Programs run to cover "Nothing is real" eggs Bring together the state of fiction Condition: wait for smile? over the void!
Tonight we might start - yes?
Erik Vloeberghs, 13 februari 2005
cut-up poem, principally based on works by William S. Burroughs
thunderstorm by Friday and love crumbles in working on the blue tip: rotate, rotate at normal speed during the sex act in order to accomplish the purpose
pretend an interest if I could again... of Sodom who can stab in the Ovens and behind the mined guards everywhere know what buttons to push
wet mouth to word static living under such limited circumstances - including orgasm ("smear it on!") we learned also something about the technicians who faded
a continuous round of control system the "criminal" was strapped purple rasp tongue moving in: "you win something like mucus" and a dishonorable charge
Another cut-up poem by Erik Vloeberghs, principally based on works by William S. Burroughs. Written February 13th 2005, revised July 31th 2005.
