Revolt - Trans* Manifesto

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Men have cunts and men cannot grow facial hair men can men wear skirts men have periods women have beards women have bollocks you are woven on a false map men have eostrogen we are in a map of denial. Denial of the false centre, the through we are the derangement molded to the weave of a false map. This is not good politics this is a language rivetted to a false map.

We cannot ammend the map we cannot improve its locations. Each local reform sucks oil through the forests the trees suicide the people starve. Starve for reform. We are withered mirrors to a false map. Women are torn denials of the false centre. Men are terrors of the false centre. Bodies are colonies on maps. That's all we can say with certainty. Real names are gestures of colonies strewn across bastard maps. This is not good politics. This is here to show you. We are here to show you. We are hurt to show you. We hurt to show you.

Trans* Revelation 1

Discordian Anarcho-Maost Discourse

Okay, hello Mr. Policeman. Watch the last fifteen minutes of The Wicker Man before you come at us with your shit-mire of brutal escorts, dodging the infinity of longing, slaphead prick, no slur intended, just, I've been thrown into this massive discourse of anti-love and you are an evil in it and I am ashamed of you and fuck slurr the gentle rushing of it take my hand Mr. Fuck unjustified to the merest nullification of your face you are all under arrest. You prudent of our virtues watch the last bit of that film I cannot offer you empathy just now because you've drunk me but here, here it is in a moment, you lead yourself longing towards our own death through ever obsolete ritual of anti-magic you can make and I can't live like that I can't fucking breathe die amongst yourselves then or long for a better world for I am daubed in your paralysed responsibility and I hate it. Yours Malaclypse, fuck you.