The popular front

I am what might be called shivering. Yes cold. Cigarettes will in fact smoke themselves if you don't pay attention, which is why you must smoke them. I must tell you all something, god has been speaking to me. He has in fact, been deploying a certain aspect of sign language, but his hands are freezing cold when they touch me. It's mostly when I sleep. Which is why I am not sleeping. Melatonin, once certain threshold dosages are achieved, will in fact induce hypnotic trances, Hypgnosis. Something is not right in my system. Diagnostics, to this point, have failed me. They return me to a self-referential state, namely a nervous association with the being of Ezekial Ponto. God has told me the problem dwells in the cardio-vascular sphere, an entity that restricts appropriate blood flow and creates certain aporia in a localized constituency of thermo-dynamics. I am what might be called shivering. I haven't been able to martial the requisite utilities and materials for erecting an erection in almost two thousand years. The cigarette is smoking itself, the cigarette is smoking itself! There is no end, I smoke them. I meditate on the only visible word, dissociation, which implies a dissociation from something. It is by itself, quite alone and singular and totally without separation. God tells me that the universe is mainly composed of god but there are certain areas where space is expanding faster than the speed of god, and thus these areas are what he calls "off limits." He says I am one of the these areas, but he does it anyways, because "hell, it's a cold world out there and sometimes god needs to do (to me) what only god can understand." I am Ezekial Ponto, I am shivering.


Smoke is the index of cigarettes, it is how we track them, even in conditions like these. Ezekial Ponto once collapsed into an infinite recursive loop that both began and ended with Ezekial Ponto. But he had to spin around twice to spin around once. He was always spinning, trying to get back to where he started. The last puff of a cigarette is in fact the first puff of a cigarette. I am what might be called shivering. Light is undulating. I am writhing. God tells me that the last puff of a cigarette is in fact light writhing. Ezekial Ponto once was writing about god touching him with cold hands while he was spinning a cigarette. It fell and began rolling trying to get back to where it started. The cigarette picked Ezekial Ponto up off the floor and took his first puff, which was a last puff because he was spinning trying to get back to where he was shivering. In doing this, the cigarette fell into an infinite recursive loop where Ezekial Ponto was shivering at the possibility of what I am?