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MATHOWLIE
For Cortexamyn
I
I saw the best minds of mefi generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
clicking themselves through the blue pages at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
ery of night,
who affluent and smug and middle-class and high sat
up writing in the moleskine blackness of
momma’s basement floating across the streets of suburbs
contemplating beans,
who bared their brains to MeTa under the Grey and
saw Steve Colbert’s retorts recycled on AskeMe’s
green, deleted,
who passed through universities with radiant blue eyes
hallucinating Apple and Prius tragedy
among the snarkers of blogs,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
hacking obscene odes on the facebooks of the
school,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear whacking
their monkey to Manga and listening
to Neutral Milk Hotel,
who got busted by their fellow nerds returning from
Portland with mp3’s of Britney in their Zune ,
who spat fire at meetups or drank lattes in
Mecha, banned, or purgatoried their
torsos night after night
with faves, with fugs, with jrun errors, al-
cohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
lightning in the mind leaping toward Poland
Canada & Portugal, illuminating all the mo-
tionless world of Time between …
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
pad to bar to blue to Bligh to the BoingBoing,
last battalion of ironic conversationalists writing
down the planes off iphones off conveyors
off Obama State out of the tubes,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in italic recall for seven days
and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
Banhammer cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen 404 leaving a
trail of ambiguous picture postcards of flickr
fuck all,
suffering Eastern croissants and NSFW bone-grind-
ings and migraines of square-eyed snark-with-
drawal in Network's clique furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
flameout yard wondering where to go, and went,
leaving no broken hearts,
who sequestered carbon in hybrids hybrids hybrids racketing
through snow toward lonesome farms in Vermont’s
night,
who studied Corticular St. Jess of of the Matt telep-
athy and ban kabbalah because the gray in-
stinctively vibrated at their fingers at work,
who loned it through the stalls of macworld seeking vis-
ionary lifehack angels who were visionary lifehack
angels,
who thought they were only mad when NickySkye
gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Madam of Ju
Ju Jive on the impulse of winter meepzorp street
light Tuscan towns,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through myfaves
seeking taz or sex or Migs, and followed the
brilliant Spaniard to converse about America
and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took shit
to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of overthought leaving
behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees
and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fire
place Chicago,
who reappeared with miko investigating Givewell boards
with big pacifist
eyes sexism in their dark flags and ethereal incom-
prehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their funfur protesting
the narcotic tobacco haze of Bushism,
who distributed favorites in Union
Square typing and undressing while the sirens
of moderation wailed them down, and wailed
down flags, and the backchannel fairies also
wailed,
who spoke down trying in white gymnasiums nekkid
and trembling before the machinery of the
arcives,
who bit detectives in the neck and LOLed with delight
in pyjamas for courageous pecking but their
own wild blogging pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were
dragged off the roof waving genitals and page-
views,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by cyber
motorcyclists, and typed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
the sailors, caresses of Atavar and chatroom
love . . . . . . .
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posted by solipsophistocracy at 12:54 PM on February 15