Everyone's a fucking poet!
Jurgen Habermas, carpenter
by a.h.s. boy
I tried to build a mannequin that could withstand the clock and the arm fell off but there's still hope I managed to obtain a temporary suspension of time but realized I too am powerless when nothing TICK TICK TOCK moves Should mannequins not live beyond themselves? beyond the life expectancy of a limb or spare part? I've been working with glue since before I was born Something's essentially wrong with this method because mannequins at least mine should be eternal and adhesion is only fashionable A valiant production not without flaws : guitar string nerves to maintain harmony (always out of tune) telephone wire backbone to keep in touch with dismembered relatives (the fashion torsos the car crash corpses) there's a hair-trigger problem in the joints where everything comes together and nothing connects still I want to give my body guts some blood some natural organicness a mouth to speak with
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