Pain Makes the Rhythm
or...
proximity
Zero
white light/white heat
ringing in ears
blunt wall, broad wall
Hitting the wall
second lap of the 800 m, last lap in a relay
coach yelling + running with like he's a jockey whipping u
the wall--it's a thing everyone knows about but there is oddly not enough phenomenology on it, idk if there is biology either
limits are ill-defined in sickness or in health, well ABSOLUTE limits that is
(absolute deterritorialization --and any dumb theory terms will go in small print so as to detract less)
but you hit it, and it's not concrete, but it's just as solid. almost feels like ur hitting a column of air. weakness can be profound and traumatic
but trauma is physiological and metaphysiological, not psychological, well, yeah it's psychological too, but
those dreams u used to have about weakness, and now have, for different reasons, but it's the same reason--the reason is weakness. the dreams where ur legs are stuck and u cannot run while u are being chased
god is the apex of creative forces in a given time or epoch--the top of the wheel
everything blanks out but it doesn't black out
too fatigued to relax
torsion
the inability to fully relax is a property of fatigue
Bitch
biting my arm to distract from it, b/c
Prefer a localized sharp pain to a larger, duller one, depending on severity
Bitch I HATE U
thinking about the bitches I hate and grinning demonically as IV goes in just like I'm fucking religious, like they're my madonnas, flashing before my eyes to divert my attention from pain
saying each word like "fucking" just as rhythm-breath-mantra to keep from being overwhelmed by pain, to turn a suffering brute toward god, biting on the "f" of the word "fucking" like a cute girl biting her lip, savoring it, biting down on it like a stick to keep from breaking.
then thinking about the bitches I love and centering them in the darkness behind my eyes like an icon, praying desire toward them
No vital essence perhaps besides that which holds together the dissolute, or turns dissolution into solution
And you, you ridiculous people, you want me to help you.
And you, you ridiculous people, you want me to beg for your help.
And you, you ridiculous people, you want me to make you less guilty about how and why I am like this?
proximity
Zero
white light/white heat
ringing in ears
blunt wall, broad wall
Hitting the wall
second lap of the 800 m, last lap in a relay
coach yelling + running with like he's a jockey whipping u
the wall--it's a thing everyone knows about but there is oddly not enough phenomenology on it, idk if there is biology either
limits are ill-defined in sickness or in health, well ABSOLUTE limits that is
(absolute deterritorialization --and any dumb theory terms will go in small print so as to detract less)
but you hit it, and it's not concrete, but it's just as solid. almost feels like ur hitting a column of air. weakness can be profound and traumatic
but trauma is physiological and metaphysiological, not psychological, well, yeah it's psychological too, but
those dreams u used to have about weakness, and now have, for different reasons, but it's the same reason--the reason is weakness. the dreams where ur legs are stuck and u cannot run while u are being chased
god is the apex of creative forces in a given time or epoch--the top of the wheel
everything blanks out but it doesn't black out
too fatigued to relax
torsion
the inability to fully relax is a property of fatigue
Bitch
biting my arm to distract from it, b/c
Prefer a localized sharp pain to a larger, duller one, depending on severity
Bitch I HATE U
thinking about the bitches I hate and grinning demonically as IV goes in just like I'm fucking religious, like they're my madonnas, flashing before my eyes to divert my attention from pain
saying each word like "fucking" just as rhythm-breath-mantra to keep from being overwhelmed by pain, to turn a suffering brute toward god, biting on the "f" of the word "fucking" like a cute girl biting her lip, savoring it, biting down on it like a stick to keep from breaking.
then thinking about the bitches I love and centering them in the darkness behind my eyes like an icon, praying desire toward them
No vital essence perhaps besides that which holds together the dissolute, or turns dissolution into solution
And you, you ridiculous people, you want me to help you.
And you, you ridiculous people, you want me to beg for your help.
And you, you ridiculous people, you want me to make you less guilty about how and why I am like this?
Comments
Post a Comment