Limp limbs are just a beginning, death can be seen from many angles where in sounds become signs.
No doors on the closet,
Keep mouth open tongue out for a taste
Will it always feel better, then, it looks.
Offshoots of the unconscious passions the muscle momentarily honest; this fertility beyond use or number.
Walking into a room I can not see a thing, so fond when its raining in here.
You are light and hard; noodling around is fine just don’t put that on my internet.
Dig deep and marinate with my mothers, know will no luck.
Delusions of the meat suit prison but I have perfect right to look for information in here. Situation became clearer; cello, bass, save yourself living for those who cannot. Endeavoring perpetual ballad, ironic armies questioning force.
Underwrite my rhythm stand beside you roof off draws new texture dripping arm.
At least when you’re alone you can always go home.
‘Every consciousness pursues the death of another’ but I’m depthening with et al other. How do we modify the seeds that define us by simply approaching? It is rare we touch our bodies with both hands to color our mind, to shape our perception.
Light wet meat suit shake off; the body as lyricist and the mind a river.
Thursday 23 February 2017, 19:00
Organized by : Amor - art platform
An amateur zero budget zero frills contemporary art platform in Tlalpan