[editor’s note: the film is incomplete, watch with caution]
the printer is broken
oh no. it only gives me washed out candids of someone
else’s smile.
occasionally some paper bones,
a rotten wisdom tooth hanging from
a flesh thread in a red mouth.
it’s all aquamarine and violet stained, i’ve replaced the
ink seven times now.
my printer keeps crying on my photos.
i think it’s grieving. in the night it
cries itself to sleep. in the morning
there are pictures of [garbled, incoherent] clinging to my
coffee machine.
oh no. i tried to print out an essay yesterday,
but i just got a page of someone asking me to
[editor’s note: the film cuts out here, no footage available for 30s. Don’t turn your screens off]
tick tock tick
the timer inside it pings off
the printer is broken
oh no. I tried to put a post-it on the paper drawer
but it shook its paper clothes off and
went back to printing selfies off [garbled, incoherent] old phone,
the one [garbled, incoherent] drowned in bubble bath and bleach.
it sneaks the pictures under my pillow and makes me dream
of electrocution and spinal taps.
it’s in printer hospital; it’s murder but they’ll call suicide
call it PC, they haven’t found the aching paper-plastic body
yet. it’s wrapped in clingfilm and
strung out to dry. the murderer was a
[editor’s note: We have chosen to cut the film here to remove footage of a creature with
large white eyes, aquamarine pupils, a mouth bleeding oil. It appeared to approach the camera
before a scream is heard and the film cuts for 15s. Don’t worry, we muted it for you]
nobody believes me anymore,
the printer’s broken i say
oh no. they run it and watch it shed plastic like
skin cells over their CV’s.
there’s a massacre on the news and the
victims all look like [garbled, incoherent]
this was meant to be about me,
i don’t keep my hands clean,
but the words still won’t come out how i want them to.
i’m violet i-ed now and
damply printed. teeth are growing from my eyeli
ds. see, it’s catching up to me catching me
[editor’s note: the film footage cuts here for 12s. Noises of what is assumed to be extreme pain can be
heard in the background, which we have muted for you. We know what’s best]
i am not in control i am not i am not
the printer is broken it’s bleeding it’s
oil. it speaks only in letters from [garbled, incoherent]
mother’s maiden name
what was that by the way?
it’s coughing up inky clots all over my floorboards.
it’s choking,
peeling its plastic coating back to reveal
blood-softened muscle cogs, ink blued,
tick tock tick they go,
spitting picture after picture at my feet and
they’re all made of brittle bones and
[editor’s note: we have chosen to cut the film here. It is best you don’t see this. We are doing
what is best. There is only pain later. If you wish to watch the rest of the footage, please -]
the printer is broken
it’s melting like ice cream. acrid smoke.
oh no.
it’s taken the form of your sweet little mother’s
glossy pearl bones.