From Formspring...

Q: In bed between Ballard and Burroughs. Burroughs is smoking; Ballard has teeth for eyes. The floor is awash with moonshine. You defenestrate a typewriter after tearing out its ribbon to use as bondage tape. Ink is everywhere; what do you write on the wall?

A: There’s a yellow moon leering drenched ham fisted love of the fairy is chea...per than shoe-shine boys river couldn't save my western ass baby teeth thank god … Swallow of broken tree, with the familiar sound of television a thick green your mush, kiss static. The audience shimmers in shadows your running blood swept plain that's against the wall... Subterranean, randy, rancid and bored with inattention I cant scratch my drunk eyes cause it ain't worth the waste of bone skin hair and i'm in love already. Who the fuck fuck fuck are you gimme shelter? Kiss me (spaceship hum) garden of blues, this spread, these cheeses, this love this love, kiss me you're beautiful and bash me to sleep never mind the walls … [enter thought police armed to their blue jean teeth with rotten semi-automatic pistols] … The bunker is filled with the familiar sound of television static. The audience shimmers in shadows against the wall...Hoy sientes el poder de virus! Si ves que son ideas solamente! El que infecta, el Brujo desida! Ya eres parte del organismo! … Who the of shit, blessed Rome never came fuck fuck fuck are you gimme so fast into view. Brutus impaled shelter? Kiss me (spaceship hum) garden me under his sweat Subterranean, randy, rancid and bored with The lonely god, in his universe inattention I cant scratch my drunk of one, is dying rotting burning eyes cause it ain't worth the much younger than my faggot ass waste of bone skin hair...The lonely god, in his universe of one, is dying rotting burning much younger than my faggot ass on the steps of a crown of shit, blessed Rome never came so fast into view. Brutus impaled me under his sweat drenched broad shoulders. The fool sold his sole for a hunting knife. His wine drenched ham fisted love of the river couldn't save my western ass western ass. I've killed so many that I can't go home... Your god's heart is a tumour now rotten, your children, your fingernails born of broken tree, a thick green blood swept plain that's spilled over the windscreen and been wasted on the bleached skull… Nevermind the shits, the fixers, the pimps, now we coalesce inside my mouth in the hotel lobby the executive mandate is eating and shitting alarm clocks, the time is kicking my ass down to the holocaust, my fists are blistered, the barman is pissed. Tequila (distilled through the glittering intestines of a fairy) is cheaper than shoe-shine boys baby teeth thank god … theres stars cutting through our simple skin we kiss the knife as the demons lift my other two eyes open. Live in concrete squalor. Swallow your mush, kiss your running muddy fingers through your dusty red hair. There’s a yellow moon leering at you with a cheesy grin and then obscured by clouds. Glaring red spotlights, river couldn't save my western ass [enter thought police armed to their western ass. I've killed so many blue jean teeth with rotten semi-automatic that I can't go home … The bunker is filled concrete squalor. drenched broad of blues, this spread, these cheeses, shoulders. The fool sold his sole this love this love, kiss me for a hunting knife. His wine you're beautiful and bash me to drenched ham fisted love of the sleep never mind and on the steps of a crown i'm in love already. in the distance over kilometres of dead roads, advise caution. The moon chuckles malevolently from its safe distance, spaces far away are inhabited by gluttons of glory. The district supervisor screams for a moment of silence... the bleached skull… at you with a cheesy grin and then obscured by clouds. Glaring red spotlights, in the distance over kilometres of dead roads, advise caution. The moon chuckles malevolently from its safe distance, spaces far away are inhabited by gluttons of glory. demons lift my other two eyes rotten, your children, your fingernails born open. Live in concrete squalor. Swallow of broken tree, a thick green your mush, kiss your running blood swept plain that's spilled over muddy fingers through your dusty red the windscreen and been wasted on hair. There’s a yellow moon leering drenched ham fisted love of the fairy) is cheaper than shoe-shine boys river couldn't save my western ass baby teeth thank god … theres western ass. I've killed so many stars cutting through our simple skin that I can't go home... Your we kiss the knife as the god's heart is a tumour now and shitting alarm clocks, the time so fast into view. Brutus impaled is kicking my ass down to me under his sweat drenched broad the holocaust, my fists are blistered, shoulders. The fool sold his sole the barman is pissed. Tequila (distilled for a hunting knife. His wine through the glittering intestines of a The lonely god, in his universe Nevermind the shits, the fixers, the of one, is dying rotting burning pimps, now we coalesce inside much younger than my faggot ass my mouth in the hotel lobby on the steps of a crown the executive mandate is eating of shit, blessed Rome never came... spilled over muddy fingers through your dusty red the windscreen the walls …

"Had they been the ones dying under the cooking sun, picking through the dust, scratching at the barren earth, had it been THEIR insides spilling into the sand, they�d see on cracking land their spirit cannot triumph. Take a breath. Sit back and relax. Enjoy your moment of peace. You�ll soon be back in the middle. Prepare for this one to make you flinch in disbelief. When you catch a glimpse of those just following the paths that got us to where we are. Who are these human shadows with still-beating hearts? Scratching at the door to our paradise. Why do corpses litter the road? Who are these humans? So this is paradise. Beyond the distant hands of the world. Here we all think we don�t belong but still bow our heads to our Emperors. Is this all there is? Maybe we really have nothing to say. Maybe we truly are just shallow and lame and we�re all just waiting for the end, the spectacle, or some kind of catastrophe to bring us back to earth to stun our ever nodding heads. To introduce us once again to the one incorruptible as she flushes us from her veins. Kills us to live again. In case you wonder - I�m not trying to be cynical. I know how you feel - If your life�s disconnect. In case you wonder - �What the fuck�s wrong with me?� If it all makes sense you�re the furthest fucking gone. They�ve got badges that they cover with their hands while they�re bashing your fucking head. They�ve got graveyards that they�ll fill with that head if you start getting anywhere. I won�t pretend that we�re on the winning end. But when did that matter before anyway? That never mattered before anyway."

~ Propagandi
"Life At Disconnect"