Self-silenced under a need for noise,
picture a calcified placenta, as buried as the earth, brooding in the luxurious shade of my mystic Medusa.
Then under heaven's lathe, guiding the chaos work of every simultaneous calendar, through an urban simulation of entangled nervous systems.
T A R O T E Y E D R O P S
recalibrate the brain to a more universal and reliable set of interpersonal symbols. Aesthetics sometimes directly in touch with the elementals inhabiting my consciousness, whom once appeared alien to me simply because they hadn't a recognisable morality.
Merging into a billion windows of scripted current affairs
November 9th, 2019
follow me on Twitter
Or go home