For the happy man! - Collected writings DEPRESSION: Ed Atkins

END. The interpretation is wrong: the appeal is submitted in
English, tucked between material similes. And O let me leap –
with more vitality than I’ve mustered in years – at the chance
to answer the dissenters and enlist and stand shoulder to shoulder
with a platoon of animated woodland animals, geological
formations, ancient wheels, ignoble gases, snide remarks, etc.
– and welcome the non-existence of the world and the non-existence
of humans and the non-existence of everything. Gloriously,
glaringly obvious, for a moment.
As it is with metaphor.
And so at this point in the proceedings we all implode
or else permanently immobilize or else calcify or carbonate,
fossilise in our named discretion.
And that it’s narcissism – alone and struck.
And so when I’m at the bottom
and on my knees
and when I’m squatting
under the stairs and on my knees
and barely breathing but
copiously weeping, oozing
uncontrollably, vanity performed
as shadow – ready to SPIT for shit –
to hammer the thin walls
with balled
fists – to kick and smash and cuss and threaten everyone
with fucking deATH if they don’t shut the fuck up and back