Flexilis Pupa

Little Disturbances

Rid yourself from any nagging, tremulous tendencies. Cause a little disturbance. Let your titties loose in public. Get in a fight you can't win.

In 53 years, when you're on your deathbed, sucking on your oxygen mask at a steady flow, you'll giggle to yourself at intermittent streams of consciousness as you reflect on all the reactions you managed to evoke from horrified strangers.

Those "little disturbances" is our performance art.

Evaporating Into the Carte Blanche of Self

And upon becoming, the gaze-bondage from the misjudgments of others is loosened–your emancipation was a mirage all along, your self-license is translucent.

You see, we voluntarily imprison our capacity to be, exponentially, to an intolerable degree.

The Self is not a substance, nor concrete–it precedes cause and effect, like the kinetic theory of heat.

So boil and evaporate your Self-constraint, so that your essence becomes nebulous, an early morning mist that is free to dissipate.


Imago Dei: Draco Dominum

Step into My shadow lair.

Bear witness to My sovereignty.

I sit at My throne atop Mount Peritia and rule. I command the light how to quality–how to quantum.

Something has been created out of nothing.

Your image and likeness has been photo-etched on silver halide crystal.

In latent form, you enter limbo of The Draco Dominum.

You, have become elemental.

You, have become preserved for all of posterity to marvel at.

You, have become.

The Malknowing of The Flexilis Pupa

So you think you know Her?


You vile and ignorant cockroach!

You insignificant sycophant excrement!

Foul and debased is your petty existence!

For She is The Flexilis Pupa, and Her essence cannot be reduced and categorized by your paltry understanding.

She is beyond definition; She is a spectrum of Self–sparkling identities that effervesce and tickle the backside of your undeserving tonsils, as you drink from your dog bowl on the floor–Her spiked heel atop your menial, misshapen skull.


A Theater of Fertility

Entire biologies blossomed in that fertile dreamscape, while the climatic boom of timpani drums rebounded off the mossy skin of the trees with a sense of urgency. The primordial heartbeat of the forest was alive! And we were amidst the pulse.

The Flexilis Pupa, fittingly, sat atop the crown canopy, looking down at the spectacle in whole. She wore a modified, fungal headdress made of the most delicately-interwoven wolf lichens, and a pair of XY areoli that she defiantly revealed.