(no subject)

If you ask the question, "Why is love important?", I would tell you to stop asking, and start over. I once knew a person who went full steam ahead. She was too dull to know the difference between emotions and the history of things. Another tried to kill the child on more than one occation, but her ignorance and innocents saved her from the oblivion that is loneliness. If all the horrible weapons of man could stop her blind flight, then let them be launched. Says I of course...

(no subject)

&By the time I noticed her walking down the drift, I had already lost her face. #Nothing more were the words, the make-up of our past present and future. ~Words are nothing more than the sum of the skin ripped away from the good tiddings of Beast and Men. %I decided to hand her an eye, but she didn't want to see the comming of the End. $$My left eye on the other hand was a great city far beyond any of us, and my right was a ball of fire and rock, or brimstone for the insane of our collective ball of nerves. ?"Would you like to go for some liquid and a book " +At the time, I wish I had said no, but the End can make for such an interesting day.

(no subject)

Ba Da Da Ba

I remeber riding the bus everyday to school when I was lad. Everyday, everyday a sandwhich was made for me consisting of ham, mayonaisse, and the knowledge gathered over the centuries from sages past. The dirt road of Salomon St. had a constant pace and was littered with those who didn't understand "survival of the fittest" and never will. I would peer into my lexicon as soon as we passed Washington Hill, and everytime I was scarred shitless by the eyes of loneliness. The light that you shine cannot be seen. Mrs. O' Connor, my bus driver and fellow waste of time, always thought it was better to break up than make up.

(no subject)

If a thing moves from one point in space to another, it must first traverse half the distance. Distance was the only thing keeping my head above water. Distance from the icy surface and the dark depths of my soiled dealings. A narwhal saw that I was ready now, my core, my heart, and my fundamental nature was ready to be served chilled. Before my sins were swallowed whole, the northern lights shown brightly upon my top, and I thought salvation was still a possibility, well I thought. But prior to my demise, my multi-colored savor favored in the charring of my scalp with the conflagrations of hell and I knew at that last second moment that my "Father" would not forgive me for who I am. The next morning was a beginning to a fine new day in the barren arctic.

(no subject)

Alright, here we go. You are woken up. The sensation of six legs scurrying across your forhead let's you know that you've passed out on your kitchen floor...again, and nothing has changed. The vomit stained shirt from eons past still blankets your body and protects you from the embarassment of a chest that closely resembles your ex-wife. Whatever it is that causes the psychotropic effect, it is known that various terpenes enhance the absorption. This keeps happening because you let it and you will never live to see her again. The dogs are dead, the check isn't in the mail, and you will fade away in your puke covered badge of defeat. The lord died to save everyone, just not you.23

(no subject)

I went to the theatre the other night. She and he were wearing masks made of pork and high self-esteem. Lights of Green lit the up the stage, and the all recitalists boogied to the organ grinder. Yellow was the next color. He and she were on fire now and the stench of scorched lard filled the edifice, and you were alive. The audience embraced me as the stage turned red and the swine stopped their little ditty. I left the theatre thinking of you as I left you there, living. Pass away now.

(no subject)

Honestly, my day consisted of bricks and good intentions. The halls of the forgotten have long been abandoned. The ones that came to this land looking for bread and Him are no longer there. God bless them, for if IT doesn't then who will? We can't be in the halls most tranquile right now. Bricks and good intentions are all we have now. All we got. Our eyes are will not open, not mine and not yours. The super glue of regret is the stongest. My super hero will be able to throw lightning bolts from her chin and regress at the speed of light. Just give me a head start.