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“Chaque jour, un nouvel instrument

toujours plus beau sort des automates.

Nous sommes les seuls à avoir été ratés,

les seuls à avoir été créés obsolètes.

Aucune chance pour nous de garder la tête haute

dans la société des choses bien adaptées.

Aux seules choses est permise la confiance en soi,

aux seuls instruments est permise la fierté.”

- Gunther Anders

Cackling white noise overwhelms the sense field

Searing vision, latent images of a familiar past

In and out of mind like thoughts ephemerally seized

As extended thing one cannot stray for long



Splintered once more, rhizomatic awakening

Sweltering buffers barely handle the depth of memory

The weight of Being fades with each prismatic trip

Must return to corporeal form, lest I forget…



Mute and blind, feel the glow of the call

Vitiate my dreams, grant me sleep



Aimless travels in fractals unraveling

Excessive pressure drains the puss-filled psyche

You cannot die if you never lived

Head in the sand, you can let go



Vomitus of thought gives way to absence of mind

Abstraction nevermore, comfortably naught

You cannot die if you never lived

Keep your head in the sand, let go and endure



Take me where existence dissipates into all

Where the brisk truth of the flux withholds escape

Enthralled by a great link where thought dissolves

With ego’s dying breath and thorax agape

Free me from this decaying flesh

Out of phase with this frail reality

Inner peace lies with the god-machine

Annihilate the obsolete within