Breadcrumb #270

SOPHIE MURPHY

synthetically
my world was realised,
restrained projections
projections forbidden entirely,
a passive approach with the mildest anticipation like a dash of salt to season the
boiling water and whatever the starch it comes into contact with. but salt in water
seasons the rice
[just one pinch!] well,
well,
well better than any other seasoning and that is true, irrefutable. locked down,
and in, and padlocked again, QUIETISM only reveals pseudo problems so I shall
proceed:

there exists someone [spiralling into a maelstrom of Insanity] I’m tethering, I feel
its spikes
they are soft
[Leibniz agrees!]
I see now that crazy people wear socks, boils and crusty bits unrealised. I never
knew they wore socks I only saw sandalled crazies. open-toe- open-mind- open-
to-demise no size mind can predict its appeal. why do we touch cacti when we
know the consequence? some do some don’t
Insanity glistens
it swoons and you touch its membrane. it cuts Again! it cuts some and it cuts only
those who touch it, and always both parties but never neither

it is funny
[i am human]
don’t destroy my internality with your external assessment solidifying false
quantifiers Leibniz would happily dispute which doubles back into my cognitive
fluid and flows to every crevice (in every possible world), osmosis of normality -
some parts are saltier than others - before any meniscus is decided upon
those parts dip into the hot spring of CRAZINESS and they like it sometimes so
they keep their toe their until it requires a hospital - not hospitable! oh no no no
foot so RAVISHED could assist a body {~[(matter) its (mass)]}

• • •