Anus Decolonial

Output Writing Version 1

Zero

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

hole  

whole

Output Writing Version 2

Three presences:

Andere (shaman), B, Z

As Venus shines brightest in the sky,

Homo sapiens struggle to survive on a dying Earth

that increasingly resembles the toxic atmosphere of Venus,

dreaming of flourishing again by mutating into post-humans.

Shaman Andere performs rituals to

allow endangered sea anemones to invade human bodies

Andere (shaman) :

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.

B:

I am destined to disappear,

dis/appear,

destined to perish in another.

put this moment in the can,

I love you,

for ten thousand years.

Z:

Never am I alone.

Many who lived before me

and made efforts before me

were weaving

weaving

on my being.

And if I now sit down beside you

and quietly say: I suffered

do you hear?

who knows,

who is murmuring