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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
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
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
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
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
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
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
womu.bsky.social
so it goes, i suppose my empty patterns make their way through the labyrinthian rings laid out before me, it's on repeat. the circuit runs in parallel but the bottom falls out of the refrain. it's all the same, and it crosses boundary after boundary. making knots in hungry stomachs, tying thoughts together into tethers — nothing other than more cowering. it's shallow, truly.
April 11, 2025 at 3:42 AM
womu.bsky.social
Fuckabees, Scamazon, Retarget, Wal-Mart, Booble I hate the smell of corporateeze and cigar smoke i should get my ass reamed—stung, by a beegirl sometime soon before i die. that'd be hella sweet, I'm like hella sweet and i hate going to my local Wal-Mart
February 5, 2025 at 4:51 AM
womu.bsky.social
January 18, 2025 at 6:07 AM
womu.bsky.social
the shelf is part of my apartment building, this is the other side
January 17, 2025 at 2:11 PM
womu.bsky.social
my little nook :)
January 17, 2025 at 2:05 AM
womu.bsky.social
i gave myself another haircut :)
January 12, 2025 at 4:16 AM
womu.bsky.social
do we like poems here
(comma overhangs the poem) aglow in me, hovering constellations; i am caught in a mind's eye stargazing. serenity in a deep state; a coffin, welled up in water, a cursory submerged in boxes, this species only builds more and more boxes: emptied. contented. glance–turned–stare down the barrel of a pointless gun, then look up, see through an entangled strata. grey fear, ties tight at throats, jeers aplenty out the window. a reflexion, or two. patterns, pick-outable? emptied: valor.
January 11, 2025 at 9:39 AM
womu.bsky.social
The Three Ecologies - Félix Guattari
January 10, 2025 at 1:01 AM
womu.bsky.social
now commencing: Re-route-wash cycle, powering on the non-causal infinity aggregate. . . Success. Please stand by. \\\ Locating Locutor Loesses. . . Success. Please stand by. \\\ CreatorCache-ParticleTaker Relay Network Online//Stand by. . . Plotting Cartographic Vector-Trajectory Course. . . Success. . . \\\ Summary-Strike: Inbound++ \\\ Process completed Successfully Run time: 11 Minutes and 12 Seconds i love you thank you for dealing with my schizophrenia
December 16, 2024 at 12:27 PM
womu.bsky.social
t-tummy?
December 4, 2024 at 3:37 AM
womu.bsky.social
it feels empty, like it's merely adjacent to something, the bigger thing. it feels like holding in a breath for no reason. it feels like keeping your lips sealed shut anyway. it feels like an electric chair, over and over again, and it really doesn't seem very fair to me that i should find myself held up in these crumbling ruins. i am so unsure of each step i take; every print, high stakes. every impression, effectual immenantly, i wish i could talk about it with anybody.
December 3, 2024 at 9:43 PM
womu.bsky.social
they want a cowerer in their corner because the off-white fangs are cuter expelling fresh blood-red blood from soft skin when the face that open maw that spans across the cross section of is even smaller. fight my way back, i'm a crawler. i'm creepy i haunt the thoughts so sleezy so as to wake me from my bewitched coma. you disturb a sleeping beast and find out quite quickly and personally what upon it feeds.
December 1, 2024 at 2:11 AM
womu.bsky.social
had necromancer in the cart already so i decided to go ahead :D thank you im excited
February 29, 2024 at 9:07 PM
womu.bsky.social
goodnight bluesky
photo of dark room lit solely by the blue LED strip under a trans pride flag, hanging on a white, stone mantle alongside books, a skateboard, and a can of spray paint
January 19, 2024 at 9:26 AM
womu.bsky.social
nowhere
January 18, 2024 at 5:39 AM
womu.bsky.social
wow i actually look like this
me in booty shorts and croptop
January 18, 2024 at 3:15 AM