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Sunflowers (2024), six reshuffled jigsaw puzzles, 18,5x20,5cm

Paper Works by D.M. Nagu

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gertrude abercrombie : key on table (1937)

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I can't burrow into the bed for gold, find in the canals of numb flesh the truth and touch it.

Hacking a defense system is nothing but war - and I can't maintain the loving gaze of a supermarket baby.

I never have a bag and I can't pronounce za'atar and my blush could be misread as an alarm bell.

Why would I touch you if you can't feel it.

how do we run into vestibules to the sea? if it is not ethical to melt, frogs love stagnancy. All water is in a table.

Why rush when I can be next to the original

#poetry

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No, I don't understand. I'm reaching out the best I can.

The rhythm is off. I'm so clunky.

No, I didn't mean to be that keen.

Another escape fantasy fled from a bathroom window.

Entire homes are being huffed and puffed.

I hate this guy, I've had enough. I hate his style, his sob story.

Crack a miller lite and resign yourself to the garage already.

There are people trying to replenish and those in some hall of mirrors I do not envy - these shifty fuckers.

I did not want to be your ancestor when I saw what a modern western can do.

But the denial can't hold it off and I feel sick, I haven't touched the tex mex and I'm tired of the party.

Writing under the table I'd like to mean something.

There's not enough in the margins to share amongst us anymore but cracking down the front door is such a fuss.

Can someone do it for me? I'm tired of my sob story.

#poetry #colonialism #free palestine

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I learned if you time travel, you can coax a silver pearl to float

The question was, can you burn a fire in installments?

Is it a bad time?

The coals in the dorsal fin and hind flanks don’t hurt anymore and the corresponding bathwater is for a new species of wood lice.

None of the elements will dampen each other.

The pain fits beside a bundle of thighs, slows elegantly into gils

The shanks hold the same marrow.

If I had any remorse, I can’t find it. In its space is a fertile flood

In these physics, a small push creates infinite motion.

Pink mud isn’t so special in some parts of the world.

A cup made from it will always belong.

A mark on your neck is not a sign of possession.

Slap stick comedy, a tumbling force, a distinctive oil.

The hot coil in my belly isn’t fair

no one’s been feeding me.

The driver cracks the windows and the tides recede

#poetry

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tinder

Is the goal to get close but never touch?

Is the goal to orbit wildly is the goal to live only in your own orbit and never in the center

vacillating, wobbling, never too wildly, quietly enough to never text strange things

loping like an alley cat missing a limb

dancing like they're shooting at your feet

gliding like a vampire on a rink of ice at the italian restaurant it takes me an hour to notice that:

you never smile

you never ask a question

Is the goal to catch on fire and only live in the heat at the edges and feed it fresh meat to keep it going

Is the goal to be dropped in a coffin, wrapped in chains, a few leagues under the sea but unlike houdini you stay there and make a cup of tea and post a joke about how the hardest ones still cry with a drill in their mouth

Is the goal to live in a paradox and never resurface

Is the goal to never feel or are you hoping to be rescued somewhere in there

are you gonna go younger yet? suck the marrow from them, the marrow is sincerety

the marrow is an undeveloped mouth, the marrow is the space under the skin where things arc and freeze and descend softly to the bottom. the marrow is debt not yet at its limits, the space before someone snaps and the walls collapse and they are left profoundly bamboozled

you tried to get on top of me I said no, no no no, you are going to stay right under me and chuckled like the idiot I am, I was so certain. You put my finger in your cunt but it was dry and you put it in like you were trying it on, so I took the sign. you told me I am cool from the coke I can't feel but I'm confused because I was wet after you kissed me in the kitchen at the party

I don't understand the way I hooked into you, wanted you before there were drugs, I felt so calm I felt like everything was inevitable but you didn't understand how much I could feel I was trying to tell you it was trippy as fuck without drugs I was trying to describe how to hack my subspace but it wasn't your preferred playground

I say oh you have a DBT book at 4 am when I called off the weird grinding that makes my arms hurt for days after dear god I'm persistent. You say I've never opened it. I say I prefer internal family systems but hear this is useful for dualistic thinking

You are looking for a bag of coke

Your apartment is really nice. Like too nice. There are essentially three separate living rooms in this L shape and they are all fly. One has a bench press you clearly don't use much, you made a comment earlier about my lack of muscles. Your spare bedroom has a mini fridge with mate tea drinks. You offered me one and also too many shots my eyes are like saucers I'm not that upset to be here but I wish you could just talk to me like a normal person because I feel like I'm on the edge of the planet

#personal

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Copy Room, 2024

Instagram

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I'm so sad I once wrote on here "10,000 boners for Michael Gira's voice" 😭

#music #swans #cringe

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"i just don't like masculine women" literally i'm so sorry for you loss. i hope you get well soon

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sometimes i dunno if i am gonna be lovable with all this trauma

so i take a step back

the point of healing is not to become lovable

it's to stop fucking destroying myself when I experience intimacy

#personal

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a million people marched in the yemeni capital of sanaa: "The coalition to protect israeli ships does not intimidate us"

(source: RNN)

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All I wanted to be was neutral

I wanted a tech job that wouldn't promise to save the world, because those always ruined it. One that wasn't a weapons manufacturer or info reseller. I wanted to live somewhere with a decent pension and social safety net, buy a flat someday and focus on my art.

What the fuck happened? I turned around and I lived in a country that was supporting a massive concentration camp to atone for their massive concentration camps, continuing their legacy of white supremacy and fascism. I was staring at these barrel chested cops taking out these thin jewish women for daring to speak "genocide".

I was in a country that made it illegal in 2021 to deny genocides and I guess they didn't specify which ones were fine.

All I wanted to be was neutral but suddenly the Slack natter about new shoes from Pakistan rubbed me the wrong way, while their unions were rallying for a raise from 75 usd a person a month.

Suddenly I was too political when I asked my colleagues to contact their MPS. Ceasefire, now. I meditate trying to melt away the pain I see on my screen but all it brings is the mystery of these brits who travel the world and don't give a shit. Did you like Israel when you flew there on Ryanair? Was the hummus nice? Do you condemn hummus? Where are you now? Can you pick a side? Is your side the comfort of a fully paid ride? Colonialism served you well, you can argue about the proper way to make a cup of tea. You can compliment me on my jeans. I think I'm gonna fucking scream. But I better not scream genocide or the arrest will come and my visa dreams will be done.

FUCK Germany, Fuck the states, Fuck not so Great Britain, Fuck Canada, Fuck every country that raised me that has no right determining what is and isn't a genocide. It's their bread and butter and they love to cry in past tense but their might is reserved for the muzzle. Where do I go? What do I do? Shall I go to the place with my favorite carceral system where I have citizenship? I thought I was planning my future for home ownership or a pension but I might be planning it on where to get arrested.

Democracy died

#personal

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Hard Love, SIRVideos 2009