CUT UP #64

Symbolic disruptions

smoking soapbar


order without hierarchy

in Schonberg’s music


demisexual should be the norm

for average non-insane people


there are no wrong notes in this here boogie

only right notes we’ve never heard before


the thing as we see it phenomenologically

mediated through sense data blahblahblah


is reality in the mind? Is reality in nature?

If you ask false questions you’ll only ever get

false answers

false realities


this is all about the deficiencies of

an anglo-european vocal technique


I was there and awake when

last night became today


reason is no longer subversive

cultural revolution is a party


you dare to call THIS poetry?

I could do this w/ my arse and

a cassette



It’d be a Duchamp toilet party

I’ve been to enough of those

to know my

way around


the total reification of leisure

has made labour self-justifying



I live in a world of certainties

geometrical perfections

either yr with me or against me

there is no mitigation here


I need to learn moderation

in emotions, in love, in narcotics

either i’m inappropriately intense

or i’m completely absent


its not a healthy way to live

“all the wine is all for me”

Its the second winter since you left this world and I still have images in my head (flashing through) of yr beautiful little body hanging limp from the rafters. Its a movie I can’t escape, we all know how it ends. I’ve learned the hard way that no amount of pills or wine or powder, no amount of pacing or racing or yoga, no amount of ANYTHING will make it seem ok or bring you back so I just lean back in my chair and inhale then exhale knowing eventually the panic will pass and some warped semblance of normality will return. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, and return to existence. Existence (without you).

realities of war

Depression to you might be a statistic on the news or something you read about in a glossy magazine. You might have a vague understanding of it but it remains conceptual. Well let me tell you to many many people it is very real. Let me be clear, it is intense and devastating. It is yr worst nightmares made real. It is like a swarm of wasps clustered around yr head in frenzy. Depression is me sat in my small room terrified that they are gonna take my benefits away and that i’ll end up on the streets and having to wait ‘four to six weeks’ to find out how fucked I really am. Depression is feeling like my life is spiralling out of my control chaotically at a furious pace and simultaneously somehow collapsing inwards. Depression is me taking benzos and drinking beer and chain smoking joints to blur the edges and make things fuzzy because my thoughts are torture and i’m worried if I don’t get fucked enough to pass out I’ll be up all night watching Al Jazeera News and obsessively contemplating suicide and I can’t fuckin deal with that right now, not again.


I was on trial for some reason. I was in court.

“he was fine until he got into the drugs”

“yeah those nasty drugs ruined his life”

“Excuse me but fuck you both, this is hegemonic horse shit. It makes sense in a very basic commonsensical way but is it true? Its a load of fucking bollocks! I wasn’t fine before I got into drugs, if anything getting into drugs has allowed me to be more fine than I was prior to that. I have never been fucking fine. I have demons that circle like some kind of evil fucking distorted Alexander Calder piece and I can never escape unless I die, and sometimes when I take drugs I can partially escape for a bit, at least I can feel a gush of fresh air at the back door.”

“Drugs may exacerbate situations but they don’t change a character. So don’t blame drugs, don’t even blame the drug dealers. Blame the Queen, blame Rupert Murdoch, blame representative democracy, blame libraries, blame Tesco Express, blame Apple, blame Instagram, blame those machines you find at the entrances to supermarkets which sort out yr change for you. Blame me. Blame me. Blame me. I fucked up apparently, I’m sorry. Blame me but do not blame the drugs.”


enemies disguised as peers and lovers

and they want to bring you down

there are drug dealers spinning plates

while the social circle is torn to bits

by centrifugal force, its so very sad

I wish I could save the whole underclass


rat park is a distant dream

we live in a cage instead


but dammit I approached the work with an intellectual praxis

where he relied entirely on aesthetic judgements and intuition


it was all