[NetBehaviour] war bloomed into substance

[Alan Sondheim]

war bloomed into substance

http://www.alansondheim.org/imp.jpg

doctor, i am impure. i cannot fight. i cannot find my enemy. i
look inside scarred, mottled. impure, i cannot believe. every-
thing in the world is my lover; hate, you are my enemy. i am
impure and i do not know when when the last collapse comes, the
impure becomes pure; the pure becomes history is dead, i am
impure, i shall rise up, i shall rise up we dream the pure and
the impure. all dreamings are irregular and impure. thinking how
impure you can be, there's nothing at all.

*//gloss: defilement! defilement!//*

impurity, you're my friend; hate, you're my enemy. i'm impure
and i don't know what to hide there. or rather maybe the hard
external world, with its dream of the pure and the impure. all
dreams are irregular and impure. war - if it isn't impure it's
rubbed sex bloomed into substance.

*//gloss: walls! walls! get them out of here!//*

heavens and beneath them, pure substance, vice is impure in the
world. humans bloom into impurity. they rubs sex raw impure as
all the rest. an impure mind surrounds itself with impure things
and a fortune. or symptomatic of a closeted and impure
personality. or a last collapse when you come. history's dead,
i'm impure, i'll rise up, i rise up, i rise.

*//gloss: to arms! to arms! they're coming for us!//*

there's impure emptied of the soul, dark about time, already
fading. thinking how impurity works here. it doesn't. suspect
and impure, think how impure you can be there's none of it.

*//gloss: absolution, cleansed, clean and proper body!//*

impure scorch. purpose. gush. we dream the pure and the impure.
all dreamings are irregular and impure. mother to me, free from
impure tormenting body, the causes resulting in purity, when is
ought impure? of what use, what concern, bhikkhu?  each mixes,
purely, impurely, with the other; each intercepts the other.
purity is always abject; substance stains. in cyberspace, the
break is impure, tainted. my arms have been sent to your relish.
we move to and fro without consideration of pure or impure,
lying beyond the determinate. they remain untouched by dust and
water. there there's dirty, noisy models under erasure, models
within impure flesh. and culture itself? flesh, body, section's
impure; it exists in-relation-to-x and not-x; it's the null.
grasped with tongue and lips, an ankle visible, white impure
number like mother to me, freed from the impure tormenting body,
bewildered, naming. liquid impure lockdown toes moved slowly.
each mixes, purely, impurely, with the other; each intercepts
the other. purity is always abject; substance stains. and just
as in reality, names are ontologically suspect and impure.

*//gloss: impurity lockdown! cleanse!//*