BENJAMIN LALLIER

THE CAT LOVES THE MOUSE, THE MOUSE HATES THE CAT 

NOVEMBER 11, 2022 – JANUARY 7, 2023

 

We keep the darkness sealed within

 

And so we keep the darkness sealed within.
We keep the darkness sealed within.
We swallow the dark age of love that is over-consumed.
We sing the liminal hymn of life that is porn-like.
It’s fast, addictive, alienating. It’s deprived of eroticism, non-committal; addicted to the neoliberal necessity to perform and produce. It’s too focused on the new, while all of this new is just a mere variation of the same; too mechanical.
We swallow it all. The capital.
I can feel the warm cum slowly dripping down my lips.
It drips on the floor, keeps sliming down as the floor is not even, but at an angle – so are we – perpetually tipping and falling.
Jusqu’ici tout va bien. Ce qui compte, c’est pas la chute, c’est l’atterrissage.[1]
Alone. We’re moving squid-like and squalid.
Deep into the spiral.
Down and up. Up the Jacob’s ladder and down the anal staircase?
Are you shivering?
Are you cold?
Are you bathed in silver or drowned in gold?[2]
Are you a total abyss? A void?
Find yourself that perfect girl to warm you up, to stand guard by the side of your bed, like Virgin Mary, or a stuffed angel toy.
All holes stuffed, yet you cannot penetrate.
We keep the darkness sealed within.
Please, you must never get attached.
The dark age of love that is over-consumed.
It’s an isolating act.
The loneliness that is bred out of the bone marrow of a man.
It slides deep inside you.
Come to Daddy.
I need your soul.[3]
But I hate the smell of it.
You asked me to seduce you, but the world is deprived of the eroticism of seduction. Seduction is a liturgical play.
So just tie me up.
I’m unable to know you.
It’s all an isolating act.
All porn-like. This is the end of seduction. All pleasure is narcissistic. It’s immediate.
The alienation of the over-produced self.

Do you call yourself free?
Can you tell me you’re not your own wound and the sword?
Can you tell me you’re not your own slave and the lord?
Can you tell me you’re not the maker of your own evil?
Aren’t you burning yourself in your own flame?
To become reborn, after first becoming ashes…

Remember that time when you visited me in the hospital?
You brought me white lilies and the newspaper headline on that day said: ‘Alienation as a state of being in the capitalistic society’.
Depression, aggression and self-destructive behaviour. Take a look at teenage violence. Hot teenage violence.
Oh, If you want to stay the night, that’s OK, but we pray before bed.
Repent and free yourself of the myth of the self.
Your body is not you anymore.
A complete dissociation.

Your narcissism makes you.
The extreme, over-produced self.
Life is over-produced. Souls are over-produced.
Life is over-performed. Souls are over over-performed.
Even cum in porn is over-produced.

Ours is a culture of premature ejaculation. Increasingly all seduction, all manner of enticement – which is always a highly ritualised process – is effaced behind a naturalised sexual imperative, behind the immediate and imperative realisation of desire.[4]

The universe in all its simulated slutty brilliance!

Under the compulsion of production, everything is being presented, made visible, exposed and exhibited.
We keep the darkness sealed within.
Protect it from the multiplicity of the same – the growing, overwhelming parasite of the alienating global sameness where communities and values no longer exist.
Where values are exploited for profit and push us further towards our own egos.
God, put an end to the 890 euro peaceful, vegan, politically correct trainers.
The dark age of love that is over-consumed.
Please, you must never get attached.
It’s all non-committal.
A flat and accelerated exchange of information – an immediate ejaculation.
Life is an echo chamber in which the only voices we hear are our own.
A mirrored maze – we wank inside it, watching. The reflection multiplies.
We perform ourselves. We produce ourselves.
We pay homage to the cult of the self.
The cult of the self is the new alienating faith.
We are the beasts we worship.
Satan, have mercy on my long and lonely distress.

Agnes Gryczkowska

[1] Kassovitz, Mathieu, dir. La Haine (Les Productions Lazennec, 1995).
[2] Coil, 1999, Are you shivering?
[3] Aphex Twin, 1997, Come to Daddy.
[4] Baudrillard, Jean, Seduction (Montreal, New World Perspectives, 1990), 38.