█Deathtraps for Live Players

𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙋𝙎 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙇𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍𝙎 . . .

(𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙿𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷 𝙿𝚁𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁𝚂)

⟁⟁⟁

ass told by

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄

ᴍᴜɴᴅᴜs ᴠᴜʟᴛ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴘɪ

◤

MMXXV ◢

𝘼 𝙎𝙉𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙑𝙄𝙂𝙉𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙎

𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗

⎳𝙊𝙎𝙏 𝙀𝙍𝙊𝙎, 𝘾𝘼 →

💙

💙

💙

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𝕀.

TRIAL/TESTING

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“God, I’m almost 40 years old. I’ve only got another 15 years to be a teenager . . .”

“Everybody wants to fuck a pile of some other man’s money.”

“Why’s it gotta be a man’s money?”

“Cut me a break.”

“No really.”

“Well how’s a woman gonna fuck a pile of money?”

“I’m sure I could figure it out.”

---

𝕀𝕀.

RUBATO/RUBEDO

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A series of patterns featuring 26 characters in an ensemble cast.

Mister amiss.

A braggart’s bombast.

Combustible head.

A fire unmatched.

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---

𝕀𝕀𝕀.

CYANOSIS

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All’s well in Blue Hell.

Chained explosions.

Chimed bells.

Time tells.

When asked of ashes.

Grim spells.

Disastrous aspects.

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.

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𝕀𝕍.

SCARFACED MESSIAH

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Unrecognized and unrecognizable.

Ravaged, wrecked.

Comes as no surprise at all.

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𝕍.

FONDA (YOU)

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Everything’s obvious in retrospect.

Or if you’d paid attention.

Instead of skating cheap.

You can ride for free.

Easily.

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𝕍𝕀.

THE HARPIST

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Visual artists are my audience.

I can’t fucking see.

So I need you.

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𝕍𝕀𝕀.

STUBBORNNESS (STAY UP PLAYER)

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I remember once,

on a trampoline,

an older boy beat my ass.

He’d been some visitor to a friend.

Hell if I could tell you his name.

We’d been “playing,”

an excuse for violence.

I think I was half his age and size.

A hopeless endeavor.

Where odds overwhelm,

one must get even.

Futile beautiful.

I kept getting up.

“Come on.”

“Come on!”

“Just stay down.”

“Stay down!”

Fuck you.

No.

Whatever.

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𝕍𝕀𝕀.

CYCLING ETIQUETTE

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“Let me get my lick back.”

Nikko laughed.

This stupid-ass kid had ridden his bike straight into us.

A group of three.

Tried us.

Got the stiff-arm he deserved.

For once, it wasn’t me.

“Nah for real let me get one on you, c’mon bruh.”

A demand for reciprocity.

“You shouldn’t have been riding your bike on the sidewalk.”

“Fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you.”

“C’mon, bruh.”

Impotent pleading.

What are you going to do — fight all of us?

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𝕀𝕏.

LOW EARTH ARBITER

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Sinai mosaic.

Held aloft.

Betrayed beleaguered beloved betrothed.

Pigs at the trough.

Do as you’re told.

Do as I say.

What’s spoken’s sold.

Who commands controls.

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𝕏.

A TASK

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Wander the desert.

Endure the flood.

When it rains it’s porn.

The thirsty sky shuts.

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𝕏𝕀.

BLISSINGS (THE TRIPLE GODDESS)

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Soon enough everyone you’ve ever heard of will be dead.

One by one.

Sometimes in tandem or triune.

Perhaps in planeloads or trainfulls.

Passage in sleep or wide-eyed painful.

And beneath their obituaries a sea of new faces will comment:

“Who?”

“Never heard of them.”

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𝕏𝕀𝕀.

A GLEAMING LUSTRON HOME

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What’s your rusting heart rate?

Spilt tinfoil crumpled in a sorry state.

A marred sea.

Alight late.

A scant candle.

Godsake.

Permit me the pain to stake.

Inward exile.

Outward exhale.

Obverse headsroll.

Observe telltail.

Pearl-pale.

Scripture and secretion.

A doll flail.

Pounded in position.

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𝕏𝕀𝕀𝕀.

DIAMANDA SUTRA (PRINCE PUTTANESCA)

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Frippery.

Furnish me

Finery.

Fuxury.

Fucked.

Falsehood.

A pseud in a suit.

A club for a foot.

Spade set to shovel

Heart full of soot.

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𝕏𝕀𝕍.

MR. INTERFERENCE

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It’s making me feel crazy.

Voices all the time.

Wires over wires.

Crossing every line.

Noises over signal.

Noises in the sky.

You’ve got the air of a beaten dog.

Giving nothing-eyes.

No light behind.

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𝕏𝕍.

FUTURE ENDEAVORS

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Awaken dreamer.

Got a shade that needs retired.

A shadow at the back.

Claws clasp.

This city’s seething.

Corrupt forces gather clustered in armored compounds.

We’re all getting a raise this year.

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