when asked to be genuine, or what does that mean?

when i found out about where my fourth tooth had been this whole time

through a lover, blood spit

discovering how another soulmate had been found, her mysterious fifth tooth

found growing in the middle of the mouth

my missing fourth tooth, three wisdoms pulled through

I rubbed menthol onto my gums to loosen a grip that night

loose gums to let my teeth turn into the wave they want

they

way 

they

 want

i ask the same questions my two grandfathers did

"would it help me if I dug a hole?"

the answer is always no

but secretly

yes

I am waiting to find the real truth in a sunday

I am waiting to fill an experience of a quiet closed 

hand

I am turning my teeth in order to speak a word that is not riddled with lies, because all I know is the tide has swept me away

the current is strong

it is hard to get back here

follow through a herd of sheep as we are

follow through and bend down

head down

bow to the wet ground

your feet sink

teeth gripped

to your neighbors

you believe in them that they save you

because for some reason your still here

my favorite things

@home 43v3r  

blood twinss

 I got caught in a secret passage
I GOT CAUGHT IN A SECRET PASSAGE

I got caught in a secret passage

I GOT CAUGHT IN A SECRET PASSAGE

We all at one point try and figure where we came from, whether physically, metaphysically or emotionally. There is no way to map this course, our paths have been complicated, we are complicated.

 The series of choices that bring us to the present are intangible and most likely unconscious. I am sitting in this secret passage, where I believe we all have been to at one point, and I am stuck in this secret passage, and this is where I see you. 

 This space that I have occupied only samples things that are real, but holds no full and actual entity. These stem from memories of a life that can only be observed, but not experienced, creating a fabrication from the bits and pieces I encounter in this place. Only by getting close up, can you read the words that scroll on the screen or make out what the stickers actually are. This nearness is similar to that of a memory, in that the only way to truly figure out what has happened is to be close. When time and distance become evident the memories, the objects, become fuzzy, incomprehensible and probably unimportant. 

Whether it be a stud in a plastic drop cloth, or a melon coated in stickers. These instances of being punk or feeling an emotional pull towards a type of fruit are abstract memories to me. This is where they have retreated, this is where they lay. 

I have created these scenes that only last for a small amount of time. More often than not do these objects and actions only exist in their documentation and when the moment of documentation has passed the pieces become dismantled and they disappear from the site.

This collection of objects and instances has been given the chance to rest, to simply be. The objects lie on the ground, the painting becomes dusty and degraded instantly, and the fruit may get kicked by those passing through. The word “rest” is one of impermanence, it is not a deep sleep or a death, it is a temporary occupation.  This mobility creates a precarious situation for these objects, they stand in for the memories, they stand for the things that are left behind in this secret passage.