Brain Please Don't
allofmychildrenwillneverknowme
Recent community posts
i just love the tasteful vagueness, the umami dread. the half-remembered, almost unjustified, incessant sense of having done something wrong that floats about... and this.. this feverish sense of self that's like God's half-evaporated saliva
eyeballs deep into nothingness maybe even long before it got spat out
i feel physically ill (complimentary)
This isn't a game; it's a throbbing, aching hot mess of quivering raw nerves of bloated layers of alienations of inviolable microaggressions cross-dressing as pixels, as brutal pixelated abstraction.
Impossibly flesh and bones.
The glaring vividness—not just oppressively fetishistic lurid but exquisitely scorching—of it's prose made me feel like some brain snotting of decomposing whales (whale-falls) unspooled in a whirlpool of vertiginous precision; moments of esoteric cringing being homoerotically dissected like frog on a cold slab.
It hadn't simply told me a story—it pressed itself into my skin, rubbing into the coy crevices of a Gaping I don't remember getting. Effluvia hot. Sticky wet.
(It’s hot, sticky, and wet in ways that transcend physicality. The heat is emotional; the wetness, psychological.)
It’s as if someone built an almost-home: (like an uncertain sense of newskin) in some single semi-accessible point in my[?] Bodysomewhere and then set it on fire.
Ah, but then there were othertimes too where it feels like screen just bleeds and bleeds clumsy with almost-endearing unwieldy meanings: (with barely-sensations tucked just beneath the feebly skin of biopsychosocial sensations, impossible to scratch). And I'm just there to mop it up. Somehow both disarmingly intimate and violently impersonal.
It doesn’t want to entertain you—it wants to strip you bare and leave you gasping.
I'd say wtf, but also well done.
nhhnhnhg/10
![](https://img.itch.zone/aW1nLzE5MjcyNDkyLnBuZw==/original/Irmmzo.png)
@abu-se-ken2852