The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.

Wednesday 13 April 2011

Decoding The Mystery

Mosaics of thought, colorful boundaries between human and animal, in the breakdown of meaning the inanimate dissolves, experience and innocence collapse into each other, time proceeds without any principal of connection or succession, my representationalist desire for truth echoes a complexity of alienation, the masochist makes its demands, the pain-body speaks, my eyes are dead inside each rotation of the moon, darkness becomes sight, but I am human after all, flows of undifferentiated energy produce an unstable dread of decoded viral entities, reality is produced, vertigo occurs, a gradual erosion of freedom creates the schizophrenia of desire, transcendental abstractions neutralize my Self, my urgencies dematerialize, become weightless, invested in a strange new levity of a simulacrum, shattering redemptive structures, the discourse of reproduction, a condition of femininity seizes an identity, perception escapes by way of its very nature, I am a cultural abstraction, a double consciousness of history, a phantom habit of foreclosure, a ghost of theory, an abstraction inside my own haunted repetitions, a digital computer set at zero dedicated to the rituals of miscarriage.




Justin Lee Brown Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved

3 comments:

Ruela said...

Welcome Justin ;)

Mersault (Nera B.) said...

decoding simulacra


love your long line

Oilsforfun said...

powerful
full power
power
full
complete and replete of SELF