X.X. b. 1985

Mr. X. is in perpetual birth-shock. "Dasein’s ontological properties existentially designate his being-towards-death as a state of perpetual birth-shock," says Mr. X., chuckling. "He is always after his birth (this state of being exists a priori any circumspection — it is therefore an authentic state of being), that is to say that — Dasein's state of being is always a temporal flux of post-birth-toward-death." Even though he writes this, and many other writings, Mr. X. generally makes no sense at all. For this reason he can be considered useless. Currently he enjoys unmeaning, the destruction of himself, watching others cry, and stomping on small insects. On any given day Mr. X. can be found nestled beneath the covers of his bed sleeping himself into oblivion. Mr. X. is lazy. He is a bum. In fact, nothing can be said of Mr. X. without attaching any notion of ennui to his character.

Poems