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womu.bsky.social
mayxz
@womu.bsky.social
2.3K followers 910 following 1.3K posts
snare trap skramz gang bang bang skeet skeet ~ cavernous supernova loser, θ∆, it/its ~ discord: womu
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womu.bsky.social
mayxz @womu.bsky.social · Dec 10
i'll brb *dives into a thorny bush full of wasps*
womu.bsky.social
im so untimely im timely
August 31, 2025 at 10:09 PM
womu.bsky.social
im so addicted to pdfs
August 26, 2025 at 2:16 AM
womu.bsky.social
insomnia fucking sucks :)
August 24, 2025 at 7:46 PM
womu.bsky.social
sent a poem to a pretty girl and she called me a radioactive walking cognitohazard
August 20, 2025 at 1:17 AM
womu.bsky.social
ki|l
dedication to a routine, but it's understandable i just can't stand it though. sitting in dust clouds, thoughts like motes while making amends with the mind of my mind and i'm living it. am I in the image yet? robotically assembling sequences, your latent schizophrenia is showing up in every pattern. oh, the other disciples, other opinions with all of their myriad inclinations, different incisions, taking notice again and again of this or that configuration, until the heterogeneity of our affections clash at an apex, and you don't wanna kiss me anymore bc i've got venom dripping through my teeth. I'm poison! I'm lovely, my disposition is nothing but crumbling. i hate this fucking habitat, the inside joking is sickening to the stomach I'm not empty because there is no interior, and nothing means anything, it's how it doesn't figure anything. but doubtless, it functions. we break through each other and nonetheless touch at the threshold of something we all share... made whole in consumption's image, there is no outside.
August 16, 2025 at 7:46 PM
womu.bsky.social
inm schziocphrnicec
August 16, 2025 at 1:42 PM
womu.bsky.social
a man of the bottom line, the look is painstaking. your suits fit you so well, are you planning also to be buried in them? coffin filler, Mr. money bags o' filthy glass man of the phallus. Here, Sir shirker, shriek! a murder! what lizard's tongue gives you our number anyway?
August 12, 2025 at 12:17 AM
Reposted by mayxz
notfcknsoryu.bsky.social
the most common type of control systems within the human body is negative feedback. in a negative feedback loop, high amounts of the secreted substance inhibit it's own production. another example is when you're so horny you jerk off six times in 24hrs and then your dick hurts
August 11, 2025 at 12:38 AM
womu.bsky.social
today, the human species is producing even more data
August 10, 2025 at 10:35 AM
womu.bsky.social
databases on the moon so large they can only be cooled passively by the vacuum of space.
August 10, 2025 at 8:42 AM
womu.bsky.social
just stared at the color purple for way too long
August 10, 2025 at 2:37 AM
womu.bsky.social
A hive about to swarm is a hive possessed. It becomes visible agitated around the mouth of its entrance. The colony whines in a centreless loud drone that vibrates the neighbourhood. It begins to spit out masses of bees, as if it were emptying not only its guts but its soul. A poltergeist-like storm of tiny wills materializes over the hive box. It grows to be a small dark cloud of purpose, opaque with life. Boosted by a tremendous buzzing racket, the ghost slowly rises into the sky, leaving behind the empty box and quiet bafflement.
August 10, 2025 at 1:43 AM
womu.bsky.social
buzzing bee disorder
August 10, 2025 at 1:37 AM
womu.bsky.social
flashing my eyes with a photoentrainment device to synchronize my circadian rhythm to a different time-zone while still in the airplane
July 31, 2025 at 4:26 AM
womu.bsky.social
what's good for the posture is good for the pose
June 8, 2025 at 2:49 AM
womu.bsky.social
sometimes i wake up from a nap, familiar with my immediate surroundings but overcome with the vertiginous conviction that i don't know where i am. for several surreal seconds, the cognitive dissonance experienced is absolute and then the day(s) continue...
June 6, 2025 at 3:17 AM
womu.bsky.social
like quasi-hypnotic rockets i walk in at least thrice
June 5, 2025 at 1:59 AM
womu.bsky.social
well-suited
and i’m unmoored at my cores i’m tending hyper-threaded gardens, blooming monster orchids fields and fields anywhere i “want” them, prick. You’ve selected your own poison, some call it medicine instead. it’s kinda cute; endearing— Sip. and no matter how tired, no matter what a witness can lose track of itself in the muck am i the mist and a miasma when i “want” it? snagging glances at the opaque, but it’s as clear as day to me. exhaustion is built into the circuits of desire, it’s every day and for me at my foundation, i’m floating and well situated You can’t take me from my matrix, it fucking suits me i’m unlike “it.” like just another record spinning, and this is your disposition: if you insist on finding more than just a rhythm in my silt You can fucking lose me in my ash-speckled safe combination And I’m the glue, you’re the mercenary can you let me speak? is it not instead that, despite the sympathetic web string, and regardless of territory transponder codes cast comfortably, can read inconsistently? will firmly in concentration, can read inconsistently?c
June 2, 2025 at 10:39 PM
womu.bsky.social
A screenshot of my computer's desktop, cropped around two shortcuts positioned in a vertical orientation in relation to one another. on top is a Scrivener shortcut (the word processor that i use); underneath it is an image file of a drawn dog girl drinking out of a urinal with a speech bubble above her head—thus implicating myself and my poetics as the piss-drinking, sympathetic subject pictured.
June 2, 2025 at 6:50 AM
womu.bsky.social
Made in the mirror, prepped for the image. Given over to a sense of grandeur, and self-sacrifice comes naturally there- after: scare-factor. Oh, maze-mapper! Labyrinthian intermission, pull me out of these ever more cleanly-cut spaces, and lay waste to all of these most apologetic faces, I stand double- crossing the distance spanning between spasms and inertia. In search of a metastability far from equilibrium. Our Abject refuse, returned to the peripheries. Actuation, a point taken and running with it Into the desert of the real: To the heart’s content. Co-ordinates; can you Hear me?
June 1, 2025 at 12:48 AM
womu.bsky.social
i am choking on ground molars: a miasma in my mouth of vapors— oh, i think i am made out of teeth! i am an amnesia fountain, chock-full of atomized youthitude & femicide, ironed out into a fine specimen of gentle disaffection a soft guile, wire mask guise & sly smile. i am tectonic, like fine china plates.
May 27, 2025 at 5:31 AM
womu.bsky.social
drvnkpvppy
May 15, 2025 at 1:06 PM
womu.bsky.social
franco "bifo" beradi's newest english publication is wonderful, by the way. i can highly recommend :)
Italian political theorist and activist Franco Beradi's newest English publication, titled "Chaos and the Automaton."
April 26, 2025 at 4:02 AM
womu.bsky.social
tongues should be able to regrow themselves, and this isn't even a controversial opinion.
April 19, 2025 at 6:07 AM
womu.bsky.social
was writ
lonely in it. i'm swallowed whole by my own voice's resonance but it's actually only an echo of my own voice to be more accurate. hollowed out, cavernous; without pretense or intention in most of my actions but especially in these most fated haunts of mine: loquaciousness, senses. in reflections, i see neither cynicism nor conceit, and mistake not my longing for lack nor for lacuna. but in my fugue, i cannot help but feel as if caught in the crossfires of my own gaze as it wanders aimlessly—a vice, or perhaps just a bad habit—from place to place, in search of itself. in vain, but not in vanity. it is effortless, if only empty. eyes used to loneliness see their pupils in everything. silence in stout dosages brings small girls to their knees, and it is effortless.
April 18, 2025 at 2:13 AM