LET US PUT ON THE ARMOR OF LIGHT ;)
I’M THE CONSUMMATE GENTLEMAN IN EVERY SITUATION, BUT KNOW WHEN AND HOW TO BE THE NAUGHTY BAD-BOY WHEN THE TIME CALLS FOR IT. I’M A SUCCESSFUL ENTREPRENEUR, STARTING SEVERAL COMPANIES AND FINANCING THE STARTUP OF SEVERAL OTHERS. I TAKE EXCELLENT CARE OF MY HEALTH, WORK OUT AT LEAST 4 TIMES PER WEEK, EAT WELL AND DRINK ONLY SOCIALLY. I HAVE A LOT TO OFFER AND I’M LOOKING FOR SOMEONE THAT HAS A LOT TO OFFER IN RETURN, WHICH INCLUDES FRIENDSHIP, HONESTY, RESPECT, A CLEAR DIRECTION IN LIFE AND AN INCOME THAT CAN MAKE LIFE INCREDIBLY FUN AND BUY US FREEDOM. I LOVE LEARNING, ENJOY DOING MANY DIFFERENT ACTIVITIES AND FINDING NEW ADVENTUROUS EXPERIENCES – AT MINIMUM THEY INCLUDE CONCERTS, MOVIES AND MUSIC OF ALL TYPES, TRAVELING TO FAR OFF LANDS, BEACHES, MOUNTAINS, GREAT CITIES FOR LET US NOT BE WEARY IN WELL DOING: FOR IN DUE SEASON WE SHALL REAP, IF WE FAINT NOT. THE WOMAN I’M LOOKING FOR WILL HAVE FOUND COMFORT IN THE BALANCE SHE HAS ACHIEVED IN HER PHYSICAL, MENTAL AND SPIRITUAL LIFE. HEIGHT/WEIGHT PROPORTIONATE (LARGE BOOBS GETS EXTRA POINTS! BOUNTY IS ALWAYS REWARDED) ENJOYS STAYING IN SHAPE, LIKES TO MAINTAIN HER FEMININITY TAKES THAT CHORE TO LIFTED HEART, AND HAS THE BASIC CORE CHARACTERISTICS OF HONESTY, TRUST AND RESPECT. WITH A GLASS HALF FULL PHILOSOPHY ABOUT LIFE AND MINIMAL SARCASM. PLEASE BE MID-THIRTIES OR OLDER, LIVE CLOSE TO DALLAS COUNTY, WITH TIME TO MEET A COUPLE OF TIMES A WEEK. PART OF THE MAGIC OF MEETING IN-PERSON IS DISCOVERING MORE ABOUT THE WHO’S IN FRONT OF YOU. IF YOU HAVE A SENSE THAT YOU’D LIKE TO MEET, LET’S TAKE THE STEP RIGHT AWAY AND PLACE YOUR BOUNDS TEST YOUR CORE TO ME. EMAILS, TEXTS AND PHONE CONVERSATIONS CAN NEVER REPLACE THE CHEMISTRY TWO PEOPLE HAVE WHEN THEY MEET. UPDATE: I WANT SOMEONE TO SHARE MY SUCCESS WITH, BUT DON’T WANT TO BE CONSIDERED JUST A WALLET. IF YOU’RE EXCLUSIVELY AFTER THE $ THEN PLEASE DON’T CONTACT ME.
We are in your white bed full of light drinking white wine and it is dark. I balance the base of the glass on the side of my naked hip and look at the marble spa tub in the bathroom. There is a flushed gleam bouncing off the mirror, fainting exhaling ebbing back into the room and I ghost the smoke a reprise a remorse of sighing and feeling nothing but beam.
A 12 minute Bob Dylan sound is playing that neither of us has ever heard before. You remember him in a way I do not know because you are twice my age yet younger than my father. We discuss Blonde on Blonde and I feel nostalgia for methamphetamines. I suck the last cull from my glass and extend to re-cloak. You remove the ropes forming a harness around my chest and the bites stretch past plumper times into the skinny of need. Only moments ago I saw the bed from an angle of above and the bloodrush had all fluids clammering to head heart lungs into bird bath of swollen precautions my mouth a home gutter for all impossible feelings and membrane flows the pussy knows the path to other fragrant holes. A squeal releases as you finally unclamp all openings and protrusions.
In the kitchen you feed me strawberry red grapefruits and slip chocolate into my tongue slot. Melt meets vintage melt. Sop a plate of olive oil into new bread. Yes take and know that this is special and I know my attention to authenticity and green slips freshly pressed in Tuscany. No tart no now now and most people don’t know they are actually drinking corned canola. We talk of your children divorce and how you’ve never even held a gun. I feel embarrassed by my Midwest gun lust and the need for constant violence identity erected out of the low plains of nowhere peyote crunching bareback horse frolic grip a mane and pistol and try not to blow your brains stupid. Try not to swing wide stranger’s car doors on country highway single lane pavement nothing to acquire nothing to lose. Slide raw in the earth’s gut roots and damp clay let a truck defeat difference and we drink blank drink varicose into another day closer to death swells and plump ride incumbent.
We make plans to go to a hockey game this weekend and wonder if I will have to drink beer. Fantasize about bringing martinis in a thermas desert dry filthy cloudy. Perhaps instead some pills will or at least a good roofie I could never turn down an unconscious flow. Watch the ice glides snear and the pucks slants psychotic. A frozen glow emanates while the warms slides smoothes in corridors of sinew, muscle caves and cracks. I watch you get hard really hard during a blunt crosscheck and I know we are easy implements. That khaki crotch sweat spot bleeds a bred of indecent need as I stretch my leg out and plant a platform heel into the juice and pump it.
To those in the residual trenches and weight and wet and lost.
The non-place the canvas for reality, its blankness the scene for possibility and with space comes a necessity of violence to punctuate complacent life. The disease to bleed under a vagrant hand of sore spotted wishes I want to hurt you and you can’t deny your need to be united by iron bonds this railroad fucking two coastal bodies. I am drunk and that is the problem with language. Imaginary intricacy and intimacy navigates the virtual volume it occupies and how to embrace the error.
The sensation of cutting the air with one’s body.
When kisses turn to losses and I suddenly feel conscious about the blood rolling to all uneven corners of my land. Impressionable weakness in a chopped then screwed hell. I didn’t always used to be not married but this isn’t about marriage it’s about survival and an inability to pause some setting right settle down into defray but this is for keeping bedding rustling an unwavering distrust in anything that does not move and no more beddy bye for me I am awake as ever in a gluey thuddy kinda way in a way that is without questions or caustic objects their indecipherable dignity and a tough roof riveted to a splintered habit of harm.
I’m only the woman of my dreams.
In all my nightmare strategies take take this dark interlude press it like a seal vaporize the edges and cleft palettes severe the nasal cavity as there is no love left in my heart this pain is anxious to get drunk accentuate a new caliber of longing must I alter the itchy fabric of my sad dreams in order to collapse spooked bacteria? The mouse life is no life plenty of predators but of a different origin I finna get set on that get rich or die prying, I’m on the up and up into hard work and burrowing true as once you let go of the promise of love the world once gave everything anything is imaginable. Getting figged with yr pegleg in my basement stroking that dick bone like a fainted calf leg stick I can only see the tendons but I know it wants to conquer wants to strike out and make some new ambitions through cutlery-throating brand mint-press enterprise with corporate gain growth models erect production.
THE BODY IS THE ONLY OBJECT IN THE WORLD AND IT SWAYS FRAIL IN A BETTER IMAGE.
The pixel is not about the hierarchy of the image it is not the measure of reality’s code. The pixel is a color field a hue to smudge and shade.
Not an opposition in the presence of the drama and the comical, but a scale that opens up referentiality to the size of culture. The key is on the map out into the pasture.
1.99 2.99 2.99
Buy yr tickets on Facebook as soon as you can. You can get a general idea, but ultimately I looked at a few places and yeah that’s what I said and I hope you know hmm hmn hmmr herm hurm murmum murrrr no I haven’t seen it all but I noticed the sale.
Full spaz is not a stylistic genre. Don’t be afraid to go back and forth in and out of hell and I can see you pause never as yr eyes are black beyond exhaustion most likely since you continually don that hate hat and prance around shaking yr big mucus to tempt my seepage. What does the award mean if no one knows what it stands for but everyone knows how to applaud big temper red red rager red rival fell asleep inside ya ate yr meat as a means to get ensued dyed through to the 300,000,000,000 count Egyptian weave of yr trauma.
Cassandra Troyan’s KILL MANUAL (Kept In Lacerated Light) is forthcoming from Artifice Books.
The image above is a cropped still from Troyan’s short film, VILLAGE, viewable here. Other videos and info on her work is here.