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Wednesday, 29 April 2026

On Pain (III) (draft/unfinished)

 On Pain (III)



Hi friends,  

We might be the first generation that doesn’t die.

To that end, my team and I have spent the last few years

building the world’s first Don’t Die protocol. 



Rose note ends goals, purposes, meaning 

in the genital area snow falls again 

has itself become sick 

tenderness in the coarsest demands 

what is turning in the wrong sky 

dear light & to vanish closed 

the scent of oleander, pink pepper & 

tamarisks lingers forever

& in the diadem goodness  

before fade-outs must be the Heart

now gradients in your Don't Die Crewneck

negative values conspire apart

can be eventually eliminated abandoned

what cruel brightness denied your sleep

between the Right and the Left

wrecked chine

torn lithium downlight 

Eternal Gardens but lay for me here

you your sweet-rising voice 

rouged carmine pining

ambrettes as if the dead would wait 

pains generally are here or becoming visible 

there in your room are peaks gently kissed inwards

its private world so we become an insurgent cell

of one together

when love is not unbroken or exiled, 

not without eyes 

can be that skeleton that unpities every word 

inurns small drubbings on the Kingdom of the Sick

the New River Walk its dewy garden

abolishes suffering resting on hips 

leaks out the last crypto-communist

whispered to itself:

Nobody exists’ 

then falls dead

in the walls, floors bondage

of predation even the living will seem unreal

we will have to choose 

just how much unpleasantness 

we wish to create or conserve 

- if any excruciating suffocating wish

 hemlocked clung sweet to giddiness 

the hyperthymic steel link,

not a rivet, or euthymic 

winking at the brim 

travel to Switzerland to die

& the dying 

need not be sick 

little insects all screws bolted

curled black lids 

fading shells

bumps, kidney shaped abscesses

& the dead 227 figures 

meant for Linz 

Bundesblatt 77% underneath light filched 

to pale dapple-greys all but rain   

between buildings   

the masseuse chairs in Hauptbahnhof   

are actual police proxy codes wire to wire 

we must remember,   

doesn’t last long enough

memorised in amice song 

the cultus medicine paste    

trespassing in reuptakes 

some things as free   

through this alkaline garden

sterbetourismus the glass doors 

 cruelest irony in Zurich PLC 

a 104-year-old scientist 

of moderate renown & sound health 

ate cheesecake, listened to Beethoven

& then he died, final agent of death 

was intravenous dose of barbiturates 

dissolve, quite forget & cruelly 

lack no more.



Your biomarkers taken this 

whole thing to the extreme

Salmon sperm facials 

my quiet breath boughs, toured 

the midnight

i eat my Schweizer Pass with Cordon Bleu

vomited later

learned that I had acquired giardia 

I could not be recognised in German. 

‘sooner or later each of us is obliged, 

at least for a spell, 

to identify ourselves as citizens 

of that other place’

faery lands forlorn in place of doves, 

in the kingdom of the sick alpine sanatorias 

pull down, innovative treatments

for all kinds of malaise replace

where many things end 

instead deceiving a confederation

privacy self-determination 

to be free over the still stream 

not england keeps me

aliv e rendered by service 

destroying them for their belief 

 so burning how unwell we are 

we seemed to crackle with coldnesses,
broke from all windows
sacrificed desire quivered
many more times on the sickle of your neck
& The Working Class Goes to Heaven

in a sacro pod

every four minutes instead:


I’ve tried to become that person.

I am certainly the most biologically measured person ever.

 

tenderness & the hurrying shadows 

equal with penetrating beams 

both foreseen this,

upon a repentant knee

in fact, fairly miserably 

do I still wake or sleep? Montaigne’s quinsy

primum non nocere 

more latin words pls. in highgate bat caves

down to the palest twilights for pure well-being 

from our first faltering blueprints 

hovered was not to be seen 

like dividing by zero

that cures all but ends all 

stuttered fades sweat-bedewed 

Manifest Destiny 

rose up amidst the songs 

of fitness benefit

either way blow the scythe northward

in encephalisation of emotion 

voice ceased our genes desiringly white

earless less benign 

this time into the rostral shell 

photographs of lilies with funeral sympathy bouquets

Alex Karp’s mothers collaged motifs

in response to local racialised killings 

Name Gentle Asphyxiation, 

& pain the type you feel 

light karma sinking back pleasure-cells

sinking back asking what will have to starve miserably 

in the Genetics Of Paradise