Shell of choice: bash
Skin of choice: Epidermis
optimistyou areoptimist by toxic-nebulae
an aspect of joy,
a tongue of light
on a windowpane,
that slender finger of hope
that works its way
through my blinds
a self-portraitI am chaos theory,a self-portrait by toxic-nebulae
that strange amalgamation of
order and anarchy,
fearsome and gorgeous
as a star, a galaxy.
look at my arms,
as a Lorenz attractor,
attracting stardust to my centre,
my black hole,
my churning void of gravity.
are you brave enough to look
straight at me?
are you wise enough to see
the beauty in this fury,
devolving into a haze of
I am a fusion of dynamical systems,
a point on a geometrical
manifold, and yet I am
so much more.
observing me does not collapse me.
I am infinite (im)possibility.
a reaffirmationno one is as simplea reaffirmation by toxic-nebulae
as I want to believe
a mess of complexity
and they will always
love someone else
more than they
FFM16-25 On Your Own Head Be ItPAGE 1
You are the last person alive on earth, and you hear a knock at the door. You go into the hall and hear the knock again.
To open the door go to Page 2
To slip out the back go to Page 5
You pull the door open and a frightened woodpecker smacks you in the face with its wings. The woodpecker would make a decent meal. You haven’t eaten in days.
To follow the woodpecker go to Page 3
To stay in the house go to Page 4
You chase the woodpecker down the road, but lose it outside an old warehouse. You hear groaning coming from inside and it sounds like voices. There could be people in there, people who can help you. Or it could be a trap.
To go into the warehouse go to Page 7
To return home go to Page 4
You return to your makeshift living room and turn the gas heater on to take the chill off the air. You know it’s a waste of fuel, but now you’re hungry and cold.
The heater explodes and destroys the house.
You are dead. Return to Page 1
plainchantwhat if I could
with all the accuracy
of unceasing information:
to my own desires,
what if I could
to dead love
with the strict exactitude
of a Gregorian
Nervous Systemmagnetism - forehead to knees
halfway between fetal and natal is the fatal position
my back curves in inverse fibonacci spirals
crack opens each vertebrae
tears my spinal cord, bares my neuroses
read the insinuation in the sinuation of my bones
I am no armadillo
my arms neither armour nor armament
only poles for whiteflag semaphor
I turn my back to you not in rejection but in hope
you will shield my weakest front.