#lazy fascist press

TODAY I HOPE A BUS ACCIDENTALLY KILLS ME

Today I hope a bus accidentally kills me. That way, people will look back on everything I did in my life and think about how special it was, because a bus accidentally killed me. The driver wouldn’t have to feel bad, because it’d be an accident. And if for some reason the collision didn’t kill me, when the driver got out of the bus to check on me, I’d say, “Could you please roll over my head and finish me. I’m in pain and I want to become a hero.” People nearby would see the big wheel of the bus smashing my skull into the concrete– my screaming mouth the last thing to go.

CULTURE IS STUPID

I am watching you sleep and repeating the words, “You are my enemy” over and over until the steam collects on your face and your pores turn the steam into icicles of a whole new kind of sharpness.

Shake hands with your enemy to test their bones.

I am 24.

Living another 50 years seems impossible.

FRAGMENTAI Am Going to Clone Myself Then Kill the Clone and Eat It

HODIE CVRRVS FORTE ME INTERFICIAT

Hodie currus forte me interficiat ut praestantes mihi res gestae existimentur, quod currus forte me interfecerit. Agitator quidem in culpa non erit ob fortunam adversam, et eum rogem, si pulsus temere interficiar, ut super meum caput currum volvat ad rem cedendam; “Doleo enim,” inquam, “herosque fieri volo.” Rota curri magna quae opprimit in humum caput videtur, tunc os clamitans e conspectu abiturum.

MORES SVNT STVLTI

Cum dormientem te specto verba “Tu es hostis” sonant resonantque dum spiritus genas tingat foraminaque umorem ad tantam acerbitatem glacient.

Iungite dextras ad hostes temptandos.

Natus annos XXIV sum.

Vivere alios annos L vix potest.

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TODAY LET A CHARIOT KILL ME BY CHANCE

Today let a chariot kill me by chance so that my accomplishments may be judged as outstanding, because a chariot will have killed me by chance. Even the driver will not be at fault for bad luck, and I will ask him, if perhaps after being struck I am not killed, to roll the chariot over my head to finish the matter; “For I am in pain,” I say, “and I want to become a hero.” The chariot’s great wheel that presses my head into the ground is seen, then my shouting mouth about to go out from sight.

CUSTOMS ARE FOOLISH

When I watch you sleeping the words “You are the enemy” sound and resound until my breath wets your cheeks and your pores freeze the moisture to such great sharpness.

 Join right hands to test the enemy.

I am 24 years old.

I am hardly able to live another 50 years.