Apocalyptic Utopia
35 mm

Hoisting the shroud between the ether and the sphere revealing God’s plan.

I travel to ease the loneliness.
Holed up
in a Dar in a Medina in an Ancient Sea Town.

I am a Culture Whore.
Taking in the good.

I procured snapshots.
My everyday field-of-vision
graced with faithful motifs.

Reflections of the Medina that housed me. Reflections of my solitude that comforted me. Reflections of my daily life.
Reflections from the cloned “bird’s” eye view.

I chose to shoot 35 mm film.
Film is: unforgiving—authentic—detailed.
I chose the alone.
I chose to culminate, a project, Drowning In Batik.
Now, I await my choices.

Anarchy of my Utopia

A desire of belonging without committing to the belonging produces
Cavernous days Craving.

Tears are readily available.

Seven Sorrows housed in a Minaret.
Reliable Sources of Discomfort I piously allow.

I enter my home but it’s not mine.
The pretty little things hold a source of contempt.
They lack meaning.

I amble in a ghostlike trance anticipating astral projections.

Crimson and Gold matchbox shroud my bedside
behind a photo of me and my Benedict.

Mawkish Knives prick my skin.
My perineum houses
Fleshy Voluptuous wounds.

My sides ache.

I am mourning.
For… The Pleasure of stopped time.

To be with Him.

For good measure,
I rejoice eating ice cream when it snows.

My nomadic rambling eases my solitude.
I am brimming.