Agents of Anarchy

Three layers unfold, where agents weave,

In bodies of flesh, senses shift and blur.

The first: we are fluted, no longer distinct.

The concept of the individual fades,

No fixed self, no lines between right and wrong.

Identities dissolve like smoke,

What was solid is now fluid, always in motion.

In the current of time, we bend and break,

Agents of anarchy, undoing every boundary.

No rules hold us, no chains confine.

We rise and fall, open to the vast unknown.

Second, comedy emerges in the space left behind.

Sex, the catalyst, unravels our expectations,

Habits and gestures transformed into absurdity.

Laughter erupts where meaning once stood firm,

Now everything is unstable, constantly shifting,

As the agents make playthings of our convictions.

In the current of time, we bend and break,

Agents of anarchy, undoing every boundary.

No rules hold us, no chains confine.

We rise and fall, open to the vast unknown.

The third: narration begins, a story unfolds,

Through the collision of bodies fluted by agents.

Surrender to becoming, to verbs and acts untamed,

A new subject emerges from the chaos,

Unnameable, unbound, in a constant state of flux,

Where being is nothing but change itself.

In the current of time, we bend and break,

Agents of anarchy, undoing every boundary.

No rules hold us, no chains confine.

We rise and fall, open to the vast unknown.

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Agents of anarchy (making of)