If you’re sitting there, thumbing through the dated magazines on your desk and refreshing bookmarks waiting for something new to finagle your attention away from the slow burning nothingness, then you’re falling apart. You’re a fucking maggot, split in two, writhing on the floor leaving trails of residue on the carpet, watching your entrails seep between the fibers of the threads of fabric desert that go on around you.
Your last thoughts are of what? All the shitty scenes you’ve seen, all the garbage you’ve consumed, all the pelting pellets of rain and the blinding sun, all the bass-cum-concrete pound of sneakers on the pavement?
You’re a goddam maggot, born in shit and writhing in carpet.
“They don’t know me; they don’t get it,” Tyler said of critics. “Weren’t they eighteen years old at some point, just having fun?”
Is that all Tyler is doing? [Goblin.]
http://teganandsara.com/news/a-call-for-change/ Criticism justified or are such incorporation of slurs a necessary evil to the narrative of his art and vision?
http://teganandsara.com/news/a-call-for-change/ Criticism justified or is the incorporation of such slurs a necessary evil to the narrative of his art and vision?