from GAG

Grant Maierhofer



Me the dream which although did not have the value which will get the honey. It was the issue which I saw now. I tried to test the blood and the water to waste that time and fate. I worship that Body, it is rotting. The world immense, does not keep a promise to the foolish youths. It is okay. I did not keep a promise to the world.

I could be well ignored. I like living here and do not hope to live anywhere else.


Some mumblers indicate he tried other medicines, others indicate he wanted to amplify his sensitivity to light, all of it seems mired in the tendency toward romanticizing the doomed. You cannot use language to escape your state, buried.

This, frankly, for me. Ignored in the work an impulse toward much and initially, it for me started with behavior of challenge. But that this fury develops in the plan which is developed well, and consequently about that mysterious brute which is a dejected human being as research of my present time. I was what and fucked and taken and gagged and put to sleep upon this very ground and accept. I submit I submit. I want to be ruined beneath a boot. I want to be choked up like spit and made to swallow your disgust. It was this way. My body being cut and my skin being opened and those next to me and made to open those next to me. A violent kid a father a Body here and the losing voices of people being made to fall apart and sirens and crime and fleshy pieces.

A fugue art, composed. Dejected, died, the alcoholic swell, a hogg. The displeasure which is dramatically sentimental. The U.S. Prime Minister of meat. He had of course collected bits of humanly gristle and tacked them in the ceiling on thorns tacky and dripping of red and whitey pus. They created a crisp of sticking daggery moments of eye and the room seemed to hang down over you and loom, lecture.

A room of disoriented teenagers discovered staring. Their wrists cut, their throats coated in smeary pilldust. A small and almost dismantled television played and they would stare as he would pluck pieces of them and orchestrate these to impale thatsuch and pummel the other, an ugly rotting mass of eyes. Faux woodwork lined sections in spattered chunks of lives I hadn’t known, before. Some would moan and bemoan their state, others would simply whistle or titter over the other’s cock and piss as the floor was glazed.

The dead and dead of writer are slow. I to that extent wane smiling interest in writings. I was the independent. The rear of my heart sincerely, the fact that writes the writing is what. Curious. I my matter of concern and interest is different and felt. Medically, he is absorbed. The man that for the whole of life fought in depression, extended wiped to his work whole, a route. He for the most of adulthood took medicine the narcotic, prepared by mother and made to boil. But finally him as the last day on earth which the narcotic drug will abandon and toss medication into mouths with result of the complication which is physical to make a decision cut, cut off or that much and two. Bisect and vivisect, the men. I will not be able to believe firmly. Later his wife our mother depends, being discovered.

PAVEL TCHELITCHEW, a waltz, some art, a dog, connective strains and pointing back to a squalorous space.

EDITH HARMS, wife of, queer skins and a Body lost, we are piecing matters together by substances found on floors. Wonder.

In the month of March, in the wet of Spring.

All works were today to come and about my final decision the initial sense of insecurity happened—do we exit and how. From middle to something else. I work in the morning, I open. The work of my large quantity it will be shrewd today, completely, about the facts they stop slowly—cut—to the regulation be and yells passed over. A damp setting, a room of meat. I was fucked and fucked. I was passed from hand to hand and made such and so.

This is a lot actually, decision and the reaction which are different—the good thing, with result of the bad thing to be decided. Gag me and let me drag my bleeding jaw over the pissed-on floor. Pressure me and point me in your directions. Eat me.

As you know, I since was very young, within chemically tried to select the idea which improves an existence. During seven years old was started for with the medicine. He found me not long after and put me in a skinsuit.
Body eating dangled just so between teeth.

I do not diagnose the diagnosis and it—the interests do—cannot.

Meat, talkers, little limbs and well-hewn hands. One body tries to climb picked over idiots and cuts his hands to holing on the thorns and holds himself there, becomes stuck, an it.

This was really only a decision as a result of many other decisions, a reaction, quite young. It started with medicine for twitch—diabolical I did not, and do not understand it.





The urine which desires eagerly.

Within it escaped from control. Makes with the dejected tendency most the decision of recent times within most is oneself (naturally as for drug itself is not).

Now, nineteen years old, from seventeen years old have the small ones.

Like most friends the high school to end there was not thought which will go on. Our parents operated from home. I for whole life saw a secret intention lifetime from that place. As for my job simply after only high school is not the possible thing.


If I enter the enclosed room, the Father to guarantee it me. Sacrifice the feeling put out. There is not a hot morning oven within industrial cooking in morning, cleaned.

I saw afterward the psychiatrist. I to start feeling because specially, after delivering, because thought that as will get anything efficient for corpsing. Me there was not a time when I tried the enormous conversion. For secret intention. Former took medicine enough, did well and the feeling was good.

Our room was spare, had age like all we’d seen. I set my body down on the bed nearest the wet to settle, then walked over and opened my mouth.

I woke up today thinking that I was walking backwards out of my tunnel into the years of my youth. What I mean by this, is, that I slept nearly the entire night through and into the morning dosed with dread. I cannot explain this transition.





The omnipotent person tore its walls some day and over like being which feels became sick.

All these show the route which passes the rope. That internal toe, that wrinkle which started with the narcotic drug of that life the sludge had become. Everything to be like that bad. I both inside and outside advantages of the minute describing drug completely the report interests can do. I started improving feeling.

We made a motion slowly. Today, I could not try to feel, for few years I had been, with the confusion that knocks my skull it is intention. I behaved curiously. I wanted to walk, anything. I fell physically, the ward I wanted a stroke. The possibility of accepting is not new. Writer uses the tablet, regarding deciding two people all to know, although, right choice, will not be able to think curiously.

I met psychiatrist after, about the situation which I belonged I discussed, to take the medicine within anymore I did not want. In order for him to protest, protested within a program one method.


Night to be an enemy, and long the night and Body is crying. From under only at this fearshow to be angry too, as for the only wound which moves the insanity of the head the incident which is physical only appears, does, is a wrist where the wrist which hemorrhages hemorrhages you. The tired mind the insanity to be continued is not a possibility of taking it. Your soft mind is not a possibility of taking it. His soft mind is not a possibility of having it.

My younger sibling was thin. Certainly incidents around that. He is thin, always, quite. We cannot know through teens opening and adulthood anything should have been maintained. It, exactly. It simply was true. About our younger sibling Body will be able to form its own view of the world, a situation. About it anything I laugh to him the route which walks around. His leg is the spoken puncture of the film which aged or like dead route which is in eschatology the enemy each cock was a kind of rim pull, nightly howling.






The shudder of a line sewn into me the fact that I’m afraid. To open, to attempt openness from the situation which closed the door unknown from the screen which will not remake itself, when, there is no structure, can spend.

Because I will wait the important work or the words which is worthwhile and former, and gaudy, because living under the impression which hands about successful possibility there is some small intention to fight possibility. When so will be sitting, a future piece about the piece which leads to a decision with success will be able to reflect a decision.

With this comes grim death. Body is realized he’ll have to figure some way to fashion a toilet inside of this room, and will have to forgo moving entirely. The world, its ugly rotgut and boiled over beings, every fucked body, seems to fall on top of Body now. The room becomes too small. The light becomes too defective.

This is general being afraid. Most people experience this which calmed down at the teenage year and between the craving which is mania to be irresolute. This is when you start your career of violence, below the teenage gaudy next. It is not what’s meant those that hang—how many are there—unrelatedly with the method where the teenagers become encased in the concrete wall, will sprinkle their paint to approach a mind’s first draft.


GAG is out April 1 from Inside the Castle