slutever: a found poem of her words
A found poem made out of messages exchanged with CrimsonFlowers. Her words arranged by me.
slutever
no one on this earth understand
none get me
im one woof in a sea of experiential static
use it.
i often feel like the entirety of human experience could be expressed as a hodge-podge of electromagnetic energy charging through our bodies
and sometimes, when im super lucky, my spinal cord decides to pick up a snippet of static and i listen very very closely
most of the time, its very sad.
because when i discern pieces of information like shells on a beach
form an image flipped in sequence, i am driven to produce incomplete narratives
i am driven to produce incomplete narratives
i am driven to produce incomplete narratives
. and these incomplete narratives often speak of abandonment, loss, and the mundane.
my favorite, though. are the supernatural. and the metaphorical
psychological impulses tracing through live wires. and blessing me with surrealistics in action
its wonderful getting to know a strangers neuroses. or the internal struggles of two teenagers dining at a restaurant
nothing makes me happier than the surreal & minute & mundanity & this world &
preferably
recording it
it reminds me how little i know of others' lives. and that, just for a moment, i was blessed with knowing them. even if they didnt know it.
im tuning into experiential static
does that make sense? i feel like im making sense.