Purple Kiss


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Text for Anus-Decoloniality


the last number invented

here I am, just an anus.

an insertion ports

the invisible garden

the corner of our cruising

the unlit room in the club

becoming flowers and wild boars

making love with Arabs

May '68 taught us to read the writing on the walls

there is no wine, candles, or roses

but everything flourishing in the darkness

the negative space of being

I am the moon, shadow, passivity.

I am female, African, Middle Eastern, underclass, terrorist.

put a pencil in the hand of a masturbator

Couples are the greatest violence and empire.

I refuse

                                                               - the silent tango comes to an abrupt halt.

                           happy (not) together

between being and (non) being

                                            (non) definition

                                      (non) future

                                                                  (non) ontological position    

                between zero and one

               before fiat lux

                     before language  

               before senses

                     before the before

                          before after fiat lux

                                 before after that before

        no vagina

      no penis



We No Longer Fear

Welcome all the new world workers, masturbate!

To make the walls sing.

To dance, to laugh, to celebrate!

no heterosexual tightly closed doors here,

only a multidimensional space

without any bony edges,

There is no subject here,

we are left to our uninterrupted passions,

we love a pulsating life,

that tingles and swells,

only with a bio-port that

to eat and excrete,

eternally sinking and rising,

a longing, never be silenced.

metamorphose and reproduce with light energy,

into the peach-blossoming night forest,

the endless poisonous purple mists,

we begin to grow fluid,

making our stretching skin bleed,

mixed with our menstrual blood, pre-cum, saliva, urine,

succulent, toxic humans,

translucent tentacles,

dissolving in the environment,

fragile, sickly, somnambulistic, and clingy,

paradise is rotting.

our fates look at us,

long since lost our sights,

back before language,

tentacles cling to each other,

no longer distinguish each other's shapes,

the universe is promiscuous,

desire is blind,

swing to the disco with the darkness of the cosmic dimension

we no longer fear,

breathing is reproductive,

it births the atmosphere,

shit is reproductive,

it births the atmosphere,

dying is reproductive,

it births the atmosphere