when pressure is exerted on an object
sometimes that object gets slowly distorted and squashed
left to take on the shape of that which exerted pressure upon it.
other times, when pressure is exerted on an object
sometimes that object, right before it gets flattened
shoots out from under the weight
sent off,
stochastically trajected.

i forget sometimes that I can just quit
that even though all of these things might be more difficult without me,
they’ll go on,
or they won’t,
but if I stay, I sure won’t...

as autopoietic systems
we suck up the shit we’re stuck in
until we become shit.
living in shit
eating shit
fucking in shit
and treating one another like shit.
as so elegantly put by a friend,
we’re sucking up the shit through straws
and we’re paying for the straws.

my body outright refuses.
its affirmation of life is refusal of this particular life,
because the best way to affirm life when you live in shit
is to affirm and disavow the shit through the sideways step of “I’d rather not.”

this isn’t a suicide letter.
it’s more a damnation of what I have no choice to accept as life, that is instead
rotten, acrid, and decaying
i’m made up of trash.
garbage in, garbage out
the filth is imminent.
we live amongst trash and try to fashion it fancy
for some reason wildly addicted to revising and reforming,
faithful that some things just need to be tinkered with and altered, but
if you want to get away from the madness of the world,
you have to sacrifice its grotesque charm as well.
sour and sweet indistinguishable.
its charm,
like pedophilic candy.

we’re locked in deathly double binds.
everyone and everything has a rotten core that they didn’t choose.
composed of trash,
emitting shit.
we’re squeezed by multiple unbearable pressures.
how can we gain the breathing space we require
when breathing is necessarily choking?

there is no such thing as purity.
there is nowhere to breathe.
to hate the things around you
is to hate yourself.

revolt is a first bite down as hard as you can with rotten teeth,
and oh the pain...