Stephon Lawrence
//spooky action
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stop saying my name. i’m trying to watch this movie about vampires in love. no not that one. the other one. been thinking about theories lately. obsessing over reptiles and past lives. i was a snake once. or a dragon i must have had wings. whose heartbeat is this anyway. really i’ve been thinking about depressed robots. i can barely spell anymore. i need you to write my letters. pens break in my metal hands. pens fall right thru yours. i’m searching for spectral pens. you know what they all say anyway.
current aesthetic: too bummed to do anything ////////////////worthwhile//////////////////// || you know your robots well, and it takes one to know one you loveable android. do a little robot dance to celebrate, because even though you’re cold and dead on the inside, you still know how to get down || i don’t know how well this applies to me. but. i do love a good get down. i haven’t seen any quizzes about ghosts. just these sad metal shells. guess we’ll never /really/ know who you are. we’re sitting in a pile of dead cigarette butts. you’re holding a sign that says smoking kills. i light a half gone butt and you ask for a drag. we keep dragging on. |
Technopagan
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i.
To think in long form::shrt hnd scntncs Everything you say—compacted ::: If you didn’t know::I lie::a lot Like for ex: I suck on cigarettes so my cheekbones break thru skin to make you think I’m thinner than I am:: To get on the same page I’ll favorite yr thoughts & sync them with mine over faulty WiFi::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::connections ii. To (buzz)feed questions back//forth//like confused a(u)nts on the internet: invoke the pertinent q’s How #blessed are you? Are you a 90’s cliché? What came first: the chicken or the dickhead? How the h e c k do you play Farmville? Blocking: the new wave post no bills |
ii.v
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iii. To create your perfect someone out of mud & copper wire, click- thru their oldest profile pics choose yr favorite quotes from "about me" print&place in a transmutation circle birth a chimera of charm & the way |
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(they may not render gold) (but who are you to complain) :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: |
the universe will slap you into place::reality
is mostly unforgiving, so iv. go to bed alone again covered in gold flakes yr phone keeps sending candy crush invites accidentally |
To hold a séance over Skype, type yr name with a Ouija board to channel out of airspace & dialup answer//my fucking text you send: I’m here::::::but my battery:::::::is hella:: low::dying |
Self as Mass & Atom: The After-After Party
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i.
Early morning recovers repetitive night: the cycle resets after midnight-walking uphill—perform winded CPR under street lamps & do not orange- glow me back to breath; instead—induce palpitations; do not resuscitate electronically—: scan-tunnel microscopes and record for reference see: chaos theory & Egyptian thread count ii. I want to lick gravel & clutch lunar dust; you want to settle & sway—weave in//out we multitask :: write our nuclear notation to include elements found in soil :: ground ourselves in the space-time continuum radio-activate positron charge via our mass collision iii. scrape particle-skin & drop into microscopic slides find traces of cocoa butter and saliva; in the morning I will throw up pine needles & whiskey; nothing remains in my body the way you do |
<h1>//see you space cowboy</h1>
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<p>i’m learning code getting ready for our life on mars. taking this shell on the /intergalactic/ road. driving hovercrafts. big rig space engines hauling ass. i’m thinking about leaving this room / / y o u h a v e n ’ t g h o s t e d t h r u . <input type="email" placeholder="are you ignoring them?"> i’m writing us a memoir <i>||how many days this week can i wear the same pair of jeans before i care if anyone notices?|| </i> i won’t post as many selfies to extend time frames of wearability & visibility.</p>
<br> <input type="reply" placeholder="we’re still on the same wave, i’m sure"> <br> <p>spike spiegel is covered in mud running through apartment lobbies shooting muddy bullets smoking wet cigarettes. he finds a dog that isn't his & makes it his assistant. the dog's a cyborg :: it spots spike’s fake eye. it quits to work in a trinket shop with an old woman. bounty hunting just wasn't for him. lucky for him, jobs on mars are not hard to come by. </p> |
STEPHON LAWRENCE is a Brooklyn born & based writer, and artist. She is an editor of The Felt, a journal of otherworldly poetics. Her work has appeared in Cosmonauts Avenue, and she has a forthcoming chapbook with Horseless Press entitled, NERVS. Stephon spends her free time watching anime, yelling about white supremacy, and being real cute for the 'gram. You can find her on twitter @nnohpetss.
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