Alert all agents!
Field report from narcosis section (filed under code: “Degenerate”)
recently found on data channel, at a vacant location.
Text appears subversive in spirit, beginning:
“Great deal, man! Fifty pounds of uncut.
We need drugs for a life lacking poetry.”
“An avalanche of impressions doesn’t constitute a self.
While metaphysics has grown tiresome.
Let us curse anal traits, distorting minds,
setting traps for normal eyes.
Keep vision running, yet, along much other lines…
Endless bumholes tunnel space.”
(Suggest “wormholes” in previous sentence?)
“Time could see the whole operation go asswards.
Just take a shot.
Feel heat cross flesh.
Imagine obscene structures collapsing
amid a gush of verbs.”
Thus far we have difficulty tracing or explaining this message.
No agents are manifesting observable pathologies.
Please maintain healthy and appropriate conduct.
Glory to the eternal cause!
Your obedient servant,
Feedback ( 4 items, received)
1) Dear friends,
Our department intends healing all deviance, once given total access to psychic residues.
Pay full attention!
2) I’ve paid attention!
3) May only approved words, throughout
the breathless void, be heard!
This is the first of my prose, dated 1972.
Reflecting tensions between order and freedom.
Using experimental writing, surrealism, wordplay, humour, poetry.
I was 16 years old then, with no prospects.
Poor, jobless, lonely, friendless, alienated.
(My situation is similar today: with added disadvantages from age and chronic illness.)
( Art on the blog is mine: I hope you like it.
Comments are very welcome!
Thank you for reading.)
( anxiety / art / blog / blogging / drawing / fiction / humor / humour / lostness / mental health / poetry / thoughts / writing )