[Poépsycho] I am want

I am more. I want more. I am want. Slashes me on a daily basis, burning my mind and my body, like razor-sharp slivers of infinity

Certain girls, cut, certain feelings of empowerment, certain paintings, cut cut, beautiful faces and lost voices, rip and rip, city brink, mutagenes and different cells, swell swell, singular glow of rare metal, dark pools of old, rhythm and flow, slit, slit, these atmospheres, certain poems, all time-bound, cut cut cut

Building an empire wouldn't be enough. Conquering Gehenna, seven circles of the Heavens, losing myself in Anātman: only pale introductions of life as it could be. Not personal identity: transpersonal ripples. Not the soul: the convection of such-a-node. Not a project, not even the Cosmic Cathedral: only want want stuck

Mythology cannot retain the ultimate. They found wanting. Holding powers-above in chains of words: I wreck the cage, I these unleash, unleashy want

NO YOU ARE NOT! (MORE THAN DUST)!
She toldeth me, and  I  accepted that

Pain is the only relief for my frustration. Lack of sleep, exhaustion physical, circular, mutilating thoughts, provocation, rage, snot. Laugh. As I crave, j'en crève, as I yearn, le jeûne intensifies

Want in motion, want in waiting, want in treasure, want in life and (reversed, Śūnyatā, disappearance) want in revenge, want in peacelike acceptance, want in nothin', nothingness wants

Megalomania is a protective disorder. And yet here it is, pointing at something else than itself. Frustration is a fragile, reactive condition. And yet, what if, what if it wants. What if want. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me