Writing is the science of blisse’s of language-its
kamasutra” Roland Barthes
[Reflections on the lover’s discourse’ of Roland Barthes:
translated by Susan Sontag]
“The journal or ink in joyssnace combines the [inter-
chorous] as analogues drawing from the [b]ody in its flow
to the orifices of being sincere in the hysteria of [bo]
dices eternally recurring, oozing, spilling, flowing
pathologising and recouping the sentimental as body-mentors
tremoring”. [email protected]
The screaming of being Munch- floodlit on to the colours
forever flowing in salt.
The infant in teleic is erotified to tears, therapeutic in
questioning the historicity of being neglected. The wings
of the bat in power-cultured-mobiles transmute the
detection of the cry.
If all the battles of the world are fought as tears- the
essence of history is tearless, in being perceived. (Buddha
grew into a world image of being the tears, which spread
the salt of kalinga.)
Crying forever the selfless infant flows into the
husterikós being volumes of unconscious, which vanish the
finite norm of gender. The child forever is asexual in the
husterikÓs of crying.
The other in delocution is painful in confrontation. The
distance I put in separating myself is ‘active’ when the
conscious- forces the ‘sound’ to wail as overhearing.
He/she becomes an element of the self in the pathology of
others in acting as third persons. I proclaim an end to the
other of me and I exist in being acute.
Perceptual process of experience, taumatises the
transcended as references for cogito affectations,
intruding into the selves of being baroque recreations in
love pastures. The analytic of happenings is put into
introspection and the answer is carried on through
repression in conscious realisations.
The magic wishes of illusions live over in as loved-overs…
the unrequited lives a voice. ‘The lover has never realised
the loved of a lover.’
Though Freud feitishised the ‘charm’- it was a sour
substitute of analytic depression. Greek artifacts charmed
Freud; ‘reason is charmingly analytic in being attached.’
The laschivia of the ape is lavished as the loved object’s
image; the conquest of the image is eidetic where the
object assumes the presence of the subject. The history of
the camera frames on depending upon the acuity of
The lyric to be requited continues forever. The show is
over-the lover has left. Only the loved continues in voices.
V How blue was the sky
The monk on the Arabian stallion and the weaving
Penelope ‘bliss’ the caress of instant blush. The blush
soaks the foam into flush. After the flush, love in its
making ’vanishes’. Endless images fill the titanic in being
a class of decks. There is only a tunnel to go in groin-the
images light. The show is over. The milling outsides in
crowds weave specters of reconnaissance.
The space in between the empty bed and the writhing writing
desk is filled in vibes. The moving, heaving, sighing body
motioning ghosts of memory to be a fill of bubbles. There
is no emptying-only the filling wets the orifices in
drench. Zen lives on its own death.
Amoral is anxiety and the cramps wait on the lyric of gut
juices to prolong the agonised into tendrils of the tender.
The lover is forever in me, forever out of me and forever
heaving as me.
You are never a me
being in as me.
I am never a you,
Foaming on as you.
You and me are coito-jections of vulvalogues in the
rhetoric of being logs. Language nullifies the tense into
arousing pains of being copulations in irony.
‘Stop thinking in form-Plato’ Eating in foams forms…the
shape of being in banishment. Plato lives on foaming and
forming the discovery as a discourse. Eating into the apple
is dissection to be motives in voyage. The fleshyness of
signs is reified and mingled into the elements of origin.