Political Kleptomania | aung.robo

¬¬¬¬ Human labor is the cheapest thing on the market The potential for profit is nullified in the handling process

If you take those full price items your reputation could be tarnished What if the blind kleptomania is a chosen sport? Having nothing is a rich life Spent my overnights Stacking boxes in a retail building The mass of my body is contained in individual pieces – moving in unison or in opposition Interactions with public feel like terror

Interactions with public feel like terror Interactions with public feel like terror The overflow is contained The way it moves is organic, curious and constructed Occasionally, I feel like gold – Walking on eroded language Where it has lost its meaning: acts as An afterthought of Something not To bother with

The fire ran wild It swallowed the land Destiny crept up on me Society swallows me My body extends toward the sky

The stars can be touched there The stars can be picked out of the black velvet where they’re hanging How to capture spaces & thinking about Where I fit in? My tongue crafts guilt before opinion’s formation I begin to question the authenticity of these arrangements I am stationary The view is blazing by me, quickly, Determined to focus, I see spots as a result of it

Liberation is a sham The concept of freedom is confining No more minutes on the clock The grains of sand are heavy as a lead marble Teaching unsafety, learning to Occupy places That don’t want us

Don’t fit in here, don’t fit in here, don’t fit in here Don’t fit Unparticipate My flesh is undivided meat ¬ Soft as sandpaper, with a dull shine and a smooth Surface across the imprints of my stretch marks Contained Contained and Curious, and Constructed Authenticity

Teaching unsafety, learning to Occupy places That don’t want us Contained and curious, Formulating a rescue plan Occupy places That don’t want us Optimism is orange Orange is a kindness There is no one like Orange

Orange is a liar Interactions in public feel like terror attacks ON this queer body Interactions in public feel like terror attacks IN this queer body Interactions in public feel like terror attacks WITH this queer body Conflict masquerades as stationary movement

Like an identity you step into Nothing changes, and yet everything is different What was once empty is now full Barely alive, and Barely waiting, contained The capitalist in me, wanting it Needing things To feel whole

Peeled eyes, looking For impressive features Constantly Buy many items with gold Buy many items with gold Words, no longer words, no longer currency Alphanumeric combinations, shorthand for Our communication

Materialize as dissolving The fragments and evidence rekindle here Occupy places That don’t want us Don’t fit Unparticipate

Sunset uplifts us: small dot in the distance Pistols glare at me, triggers cocked in promise Pistols start conversations in real time Interactions in public feel like terror attacks on this queer body Interactions in public feel like terror attacks in this queer body

Interactions in public feel like terror attacks with this queer body Broken items are trash in capitalism Occasionally, I feel like gold – Walking on eroded language It loses meaning: Blue // happiness green // passion tranquilizing // red yellow // quiet morning Unsilence Black lives// Classify white evil light green// for control Occupy places That don’t want us Our voices build disharmonies The rainstorm beats into the concrete One thousand small drops Barely soothe the cracked dirt floor Thirst is a deception

Thirst is a hunger Thirst is to be without Thirst is to light up inside Thirst is to see sparks in peripheral spaces When afraid of catching fire I spit on myself

I spit on myself to deploy moisture I spit on strangers to say hello Full price items are gold Interactions in public feel like terror attacks on this queer body Interactions in public feel like terror attacks in this queer body

Interactions in public feel like terror attacks with this queer body

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