Hidden Writing (0) Occult Rumination (0) Doctrine Entity

rotting-head-monk - Copybeing neither oneself (ø) nor someone else

HWORDE is a brief incantatory house of the opus, its salient bidder openly buries and consecrates the authorial regime of identity with the recess of inauthentic compositional processes and exhumatory reformation ordered towards the sonic and linguistical disintegration of discourse. The rivers of axiomatic transformation by subwestern categories, into logical retributes of one’s own decrepit pen at the disjoint revelation of pantheons and modalities. Rebuking the alumnus axis and pre-determined obsolescence, we have had enough of this meek paradigm of the loci and word, enough of the coutured decadences of vain lexicons and the celebrated hype-o-crises over critical and anthropic analysis. Observe how the worldly orb sickly intoxicates itself with grossly individualized spheres and trending dogmas of thought. We will take a steeper and more salutary path, a profoundly ciphered descent, where there is primordial silence to hear yourself think, where by the inverted and corridored pillars of the crowded misauthorial mine, it is not you thinking at all, but something else, a faint lore of refraining entities. Here is the time for a new breed of pragmatic articulation, a swarmic reverb sprung from the easements of diamantine scroll, unground occluded in the self inaugurating shell games of our slain trinity with religion science and philosophy, ignored by their own ingrown polyamorous offspring of canons in the mock they call the humanities. Our luminous blackened scriptorium, never ‘ours’ at all, both Eleusinian cavern and summit of portals, watch tower over elder theorems, the site and cell in the dwelling of depersonal styli simultaneously piercing abyss and empyrean with toponymic schisms of pure doctrine, atop the immanent milieu, amongst the roaming cowards at the atomic liturgies, shrouded in the wounded alleys of terranean compromise, harnessing tectonic narratives. Time bares none on the staggered labor of this rumination, this heretical hunt proceeds parallel with goddess and locust exhausting the word of self and worldly guise. Enough of your terrestrial mediocrity. Now is the place for HWORDE.