Cop-head

Yes! Thank you Luca.

Without categorical boundaries it feels blurry. There’s a cop in my head. Yet I’m just making sound, am just stick-scraping. 3rd-Way-Shitting — Not pooping. Not vomiting. Creating.

It becomes wildly distorted when the cop says I’m doing it wrong. And I develop ulcers and Akira-muscles to maintain postures, measured in days. I protes…

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