There is no reality

Luc Tuymans

There is no reality – I seared over all the furniture simultaneously projecting images of the most terrible of mental landscapes over and over again – I seemed to cauterize prominent figures from the distant past although they didn’t seem to mind – I began quietly reading the charges laid against me –a list denying the shape of the sun –a  portrait of a silver circle –a self prophesying portrait of my future reflection in the eyes of others – leaflets and pamphlets of the most enviable death – a march of the wronged, set forth from my bathroom trailing rubble of previous nights miscreants – a leaflet beautifully crafted from the delicate article –all the words that were thrown my way by the deftest speech ridicule –at first I thought they were useless shapes - form denying shape – but no-one died – everybody died –trying to make sense of the problem gave me the reason, loose skin underneath the bicep, softer than warm butter inviting me to sleep on it – a definite gradient here –the waxy pallor of the dead grandmother –glassy dead –eyes that wont close all week, they wouldn’t close – even dead they didn’t close – I discovered that the words – that the words – that the words are always a poor substitute – so the oceans of the sky – and the deepest invisible abyss seems now, so shallow – grant me grace – there is no reality - somewhere in the interposing duality of discovery a link to the first human has been mined like coal - digging  in the deepest part of ethereal life they have found a pre-positioned skull, the size of a small bank, this is reported - this is reported - friends are deported for there lack of deportment the rhythmic denouement interposing serenity -locked torso- kripple krakked - angular sensation - near the equator apparently - I  suspect time will cease there - time = zero there - the soft marching birds on parade to guard the memory - inside the paralysis of sleep we visit there - the equatorial non-zones - there own horrible mystery destroying our vanity -