Not to be Out Done by the Machines

The drawings to the left were taken from a piece called 'Orbic', ink on paper, 2001. The stream-of-consciousness text below is a piece i shall attribute to Cicada written sometime during 1996;

"help i got what the one bourbon one scotch one beer my fingers are sticky its not from the anal sludge of some deprived lunatic ass hole its from the slimy mildew of a microwaved meat pie with tomato sauce ketchup mustard spices that dices crisis on infinite earth .scratch my eyes they bleed with snow making focus not happen aperture why bother can't see any aperture from i don't no why .coke drug or refreshing liquid of gold proportional value? gold is an ugly rock with no practical value soft as limp cocks melts in the hand not in the mouth dentistry for the gods coke is used in dentistry to persuade white Americans to shit themselves when all hope is removed via the high way railway to Siberia .stop at the interstate and dead will happen to your cousin clive who is allergic to intelligence.clives an ugly man no dog would fuck lived in paris but the rats droves him out his bipolar flesh has anti gravity properties that make him useful to hyper government research to keep the peasants voting for the cunts who fly through the tv advertisement of shallow swamp living.finger lickin good. since clives strapped into ecto plasmic extracting Cuban run harvesting machinery and is guarded by the thousand or so famous five viewers he won't be the one who drops his head in a bucket of dental flosss at the intersection. everything makes sense to know one. and when they were up they were only half way up and when they were down they shot up on junk."