even perfection isn't perfect

torch snuffed

why is the sutra looking so backward looking lately? neurodynamics

i dropped the torch in a lazy fit of drowsy itch - it's over, but i might make a few ghostly moans anyway, and continue to remember a thing i had with a womon, an amazing thing for a creature such as me, how did it ever happen that i had that chapter in my life? among other things, it was certainly status, and self-respect - and it was love, as well

perceiving through quivering meat-curtains of emotion - that's what i call reality - the feeling of personal apocalypse dread seeming so trivial in retrospect - yet - there's another one waiting for me - unless, maybe, i can be so crafty, more crafty than i ever have been, and wriggle under the mandated dread - all i can do is be crafty, practice the craft, the dark arts, act as if there's no god - no sign, no nothing, except all this absurd existence, whatever it is

make a mockery of prayer - make a noose of perception - make mince meat of emotion