Death to the Great Alarm final chapter
Chapter 100: We repeat, Death to the Great Alarm
Lost again on the road out in the outback passing by yellow tinted lighted houses. Big tall white faded fences trees intermittently lining either side of the road planted about 20 years ago when this place was converted from field into large rich people homes. Passing by that electrical plant again lost and have no idea where I'm at as usual I don't like driving specially at night but people always pressure pressure me pressure me pressure man and a pressure minute pressuring me and the pressure mean to pressure me again you've got to drive someplace you don't know and the dark on the road but don't want too. Pressure pressure pressure me pressure me even pressure me pressure pressure pressure me pressure me and pressure you gotta drive someplace you don't know on the road when its dark we know you're almost blind, we know you don't have very good eye sight as we know that you can't always see when darkness then headlights make the road not seen at all. But we don't care we got our own agenda. It's our agenda and you gotta drive it you got to go where we say. Pressure pressure pressure me then you pressure me pressure me then you pressure me how he wants to pressure me some more you got to be way out in some other county driving through it was weird to be like them as you see they designed these roads as a maze confuse people like you but you'll die on the road all confused and lost so the car breaks down or you run out of gas or you get too tired to drive anymore and you're still not anywhere from earlier. You got to get there on the road never mind staying at home that's just what YOU want. Pressure you pressure pressure pressure.
All I want to do is go home. The office god damn road shiny black fairly new road. Been past by five new cars there are others coming up behind me and impatiently wanted me to go faster down to the land of where the fuck? Beautiful lights of these country houses of the wealthy right-wing owners but there still is a little magic here in the country computable fields and wooded areas planted by white Men maybe a hundred years ago. Crossing a bridge the bridge sounds like it's going to collapse under me it's too old and decrepit. Passing by some strange structure within a carving stone in the Creek. Spensive field equipment parked in the field big gigantic houses massive lawns boxed in by shelterbelts that's what's going on now I'm in the oilfield passing in this ribbon black ribbon cut through the fields. And I'm at a big corn field beside probably some pig and corn in season they're opening. The car breaks down so they can't eat meat. The radio tower is flashing red lights the alcohol plant I can see all kinds of lights and the sour smell of manufactured alcohol in it will be hundred thousand gallon bolt. Makes you want to choke on this road there's lightning in the sky lightning darkness and lightning I'm still driving past houses in there so many isolated houses one to two maybe three per mile big gigantic house is expensive. Well, manicured itches considering that there's hardly anybody living here seems like the tax money wouldn't be enough but it is if you got rich money you don't have to be on your own keep your album pictures all clean. Yellow lightning stains cloudy sky. Stopping at yet another corner old shelter belt where it's risky and turn right on 253rd you know I think we're finally on the stretch the long fucked up way home. Going sober down the road have big trucks and semis Pass telephone pole electric lines pass along flat fields. Kids have been killed.
Selling lemonade under the intermittent light of the Blood Moon a new revolution Revelations stairs revolution in the stairway comb your hair with a shotgun. The city I live now the guns. Blood on the streets under the Blood Moon and on the windshield. Beside the call of a kind field. Crazy lights on this Blood Moon. Yellows reds and blues even as the hues change and different parts of it are illuminated spots of bright yellow. Well I drove and I drove I got lost somewhere along the way and I drove some more and more. Been driving for hours and nothing is familiar on the road it's getting cold and my heater does not work, I drove into a small town called October. I don't know where it is. it's a small Farm Town becoming a sparrow rule community. But the one person I stopped and asked, who was walking beside the road only answered me in tongue clicks and dazed expression and I ask no more just kept driving up ahead there was a police blockade. The cars in front of me slow down and stopped to the hand gestures of the officer. And the cops and the lights and the open window of the first car asked a few questions made the lady flash her tits rub the nipples so they get hard. He waved the lady on then it was the next car. Apparently, the driver did something to offend the officer because he pulled out his handgun and shot him in the head he jotted down a few notes and left the man slumped against the hood. He came over to me shine the light in my face through the open window. Asking long series of questions in the blinding light insisting I keep my eyes wide open. Shine the light down on my crotch and told me to pull out my cock. He took out his cell phone and put it on video record I was feeling very vulnerable I'm paranoid scared and I gripped my pants and pulled them down to my phone. I pulled out my cock, it's a pretty cock Firm and long. He made me shake it while he video recorded it and then he let me drive on.
That was the point that I said fuck it and I just drove and I drove and I got lost. And as I drove, I take off my clothes totally naked now driving. Fresh cool air tickles my skin with the perfume of blossoms as my route passes by. The radio doesn't work so it's my own thoughts to keep me entertained on the endless road seems I'll never run out of gas maybe I'll just keep on going for endless hours it seems cuz this is probably the afterlife I'm thinking. Drove by a Latino lady jogging little short brown lady with gorgeous bouncing tits. I stared as I passed by and nearly hit the curb such lovely upward curved tits but I just kept driving, feeling the wind in my pubic hair.
But it got dark really fast I didn't expect that kind of flash, my headlights on my balls to illuminate the road. I searched the glove box and found some beef jerky and chewed it as I drove on past windy shelterbelts with branches waving at me. A little bit of rain and a fresh smell of ozone. Soon I was going up and down gentle hills. Still, have no idea no clue where I am don't know if I'm in the same state anymore even. And I'm still thinking this is the afterlife seems like I've been driving about seven hours The Sun showing signs of coming up. And I'm not even tired yet that beef jerky really perked me up. Passing by a grand soul silo that's been burned I'm singing spontaneous songs while tapping my cock against the steering wheel to keep rhythm. Driving through a small city now. I pull into one of the gasoline spots but I don't gas up, I just stop the car and just sit there naked watching the people beside me getting gas and getting ready for work no one seems to notice that my shorts are off let alone that my cocks out which they should see at certain angles and they're all about their business and not paying attention. The smell of coffee licious savory wafts in the air. There's this black lady coming out of the store, the filling station. She's a young pretty thing with beautiful breasts so firm and high. And she doesn't seem to notice me and she walks with a general shake of the breasts to her car beside me and I'm masturbating rubbing it looking watching sticking my head out the window at her. Watching her ass as she bends over into the car and its unnoticed by all. By all the parents and the little brats on expensive cell phones. I'm driving on down I feel really good with energy in my belly and my hard fucking wood. I'm perfume in the car with my old manly hormones it smells like a gym locker if you came in now. And I do think I'm dead I really do I'm just driving and driving and nothings familiar something should be eventually and now I'm crossing a state line. A big construct above the highway and the flashing sign says Llueve. I have no idea population 300,000? There's no city such as that on my map.
My car its been like a crutch all along and I lamented it with a mournful song because it just sort of fades away and it's gone. And I'm walking outside the road Carless homeless not knowing anything about the landscape around me. & I see a turtle crossing the road a big old huge snapping turtle looking doomed. Slow turtle going slow across the road I know it's going to get killed so I have to scoop it up in my arms. Watch it implode all into its shell folding into its shell. Red red red eyes red-rimmed eyes stare at me as I place it in the ditch beyond and it goes on then it goes on gotta save the turtles and you and Man. We did enough damage as it is here.
Oh yeah I know I'm walking and I walked for many miles these cheap shoes are really punishing me now. Just been wearing cheap shoes I need some news but for that, you gotta sacrifice a meal or seven. So I'm walking down the street like a zombie all tired tired out feels like my soul has worn thin and I'm walking keep on walking in sunless neighborhoods. With every passing of seven or so blocks, there's a new very small difference to the culture. A very small difference in the smell of skin that lingers in the air. The people waking, I'm so tired I just want to lay down beside the street curl up in a ball and sleep. That's against the social rules you know and I got to keep on going I need to lie on a park bench is there a park bench and this hemisphere?
And now I'm walking through a semi-upper class neighborhood. And these people are probably even more upturned of the nose. Because people with their "enlightened culture" which is really just a witch hunt then they give you a zoning law execution. I walk in there they got little tables set up beside the straightener drinking tea so elegantly they make more money than me and they're educated and they're on a spree. They look at me like some kind of lower life form. Not very liberal at all you know. Insult a man of your eyes as he crosses the road. & I come to a collapsed overpass it once elevated above the streets and now it is a fallen concrete box full of trash. As I go back it feels rejected. These fuckers these nasty asses send me up for classes, and they're hiding their trash, Chipmunks, mystery, and beauty. I curse you, I'll rub a dick against your house.
Why Can't I remember? Things got hazy for a long time for me. Then something happened it was sudden intense intra Matic Dramatics traumatic. I don't know what it was. I'm not sure what happened but it was something really fucked-up and intense. Now everything is in suspense. We all gathered in the Civic Emergency Center. It's a great building that goes on forever.
I am waiting in a room. Still waiting in a room. Others had been here for a long time when we arrived. The place is just full of people I mean this place holds 20,000 people it's a fucking huge building. So big you can get lost in it easy. When I first got here, I got helplessly lost hopelessly, nobody could tell me where the fuck I was. This building is a FEMA emergency center. Originally made to help people in times of weather disasters, in wars or Civil Uprising. Smash them imprisoning of rebels and such. But budget cuts came into place and it started renting out space here it's a huge after all. The hallways are so wide you could drive cars in two lanes. There are people with blankets sitting with their backs against the wall. There were vendors selling things on little cardboard tables and folding chairs many things in the dim light, sometimes interesting items for sale displayed on these tables. I went by looking for room 101 but I never found it. Looking all around. Where the fuck is Room 101?
My foot Falls making echoes, less and fewer people around. At some point, there's cracks in the wall that looks older and older. Most of this building I've seen looks like it was made in the 2000's. But at this level, it looks more like it was constructed in the sixties or seventies. Cracks in concrete walls. Then there started being huge sections missing from some walls, and Rubble around. I stepped through one of these holes. Came into another hallway kind of parallel to it.
It's another hallway and it looks like it was constructed in the nineteen forties. Has a faded long underground look to it. Let's do the time-warp again. And I walked down it out of curiosity. And it was seldom lit, halls of light and darkness. long stretches almost pitch black between the lines and wet. Wet wet dripping some moisture coming up from the wall. So I turned around went back got lost wondering. It's 45 minutes I wandered till I saw somebody and they directed me to the third story. So many people confused about what happened and we're all here. We're all here and not knowing why. People in business suits people wearing work clothes. We're always kind of mixed together here and waiting I'm told that we're supposed to go to a room.
So I'm told to take a number. There's a machine that spits numbers when you push the button I get 101. It must be the room for me. It's confusing you always are like really dense and complex. What day is this? I'm not sure how long I've been here There's no moon outside just Blackness darkness, no lights on the outside of the building. The rooms have windows but they look out onto Pitch Black without a speck of light. Still in the waiting room. How long do I have to wait? How long do we have to wait for all these people I don't know any of them. Just a random mix of folks mostly from the city in a few from the surrounding Countryside. A few more conversations among people who don't know each other. Nervous times my brothers. Talking about the big question. What happened? We don't know what happened because we only remember ending up here and this is my memory and the others here to talk about it say the same thing. They think some really big catastrophe some big event happened. Apocalypse. massive upheaval.. Apocalypse. Apocalypse. Apocalypse. So what do we do now? Just wait here? I've been waiting for what seems like hours. So many people have filed by in a hallway the doors open I see them all grey in their dress outfits. Shuffling confused they don't know what to do. The only thing I've been told. Is that some government official is going to come along and explain what happened and what to do. We're all waiting here waiting for the government official to tell us what to do now. We are in this little room like a classroom with these desk chairs. My hands are folded on the desk chair and I stare at the chalkboard and little 8-millimeter film projector apparently they're going to show us some kind of film. Some kind of thing that needs an old 8 millimeter 1970s film projector to show. Maybe that was just here and someone's going to come and tell us what happened. Some vague apocalypse. It's on my lips the time I've lost my mind just waiting here waiting. It's uncomfortable after so many hours I'm kind of hungry and gnawing and knowing desire and my bone marrow out like a flower. I'm waiting here hungry and how long how long is it the next murdered angle What day is this? Have I been here over a day? I nodded off in my desk chair. Whilst I was sleeping I had a dream. In this dream I was dead. Apparently, something violent had happened to me I don't know what. My body sprawled in a murdered angle. In this dream, I stared at my body and knew I was dead I was uploading Consciousness above my sprawled body. And I watched Waiting. Waiting for the afterlife to begin. And my body was sprawled on an endless flat purple plane. A plain of this dark throbbing energy dark purple. Like a table that went on forever and there's nothing on it just my body and nothing else. In this dream, I waited hovering above for hundreds of years watching my body. The entertainment value of such is quickly eroded. And yet the body never rotted. The body never moved no Breeze. And I kept waiting for the afterlife that never happened. Just watched my sprawled body for hundreds of thousands, millions of years. Woke up with drool all over my sleeve. Wiping my chin. Still in that fucking classroom waiting for some government official to come along. A confident father figure like official to tell us what happened. Tell us what they know tell us what's going on. Beginning to wonder if this official is ever going to show up. Is there any government now? Some vague apocalypse. That's when I first started thinking maybe I'm dead. So many people filing through the hallway like rain into these this clatter of feet. People all seem to have been blindsided by whatever happened. And they dress casual "I'm at home" style in sloppy clothes outfits mostly. So they talked a little. Nervous murmurs in the hall. The Apocalypse. The clock doesn't work. Now I'm bored as hell. Nervous I just want to know what's happening. This is a big FEMA camp and the building has endless fucking floors I'm on the 7th floor. The place smells like the cleaning fluids that the black people would mop the floors within 1980. Back in the 1980s, Building Maintenance was mostly done by black people now it's seemingly all Mexican people and nobody else. Anyway... somebody I know comes into the room! It's Aubrey! Me and Aubrey had a fling back in the eighties and nineties early part of the 2000's. While her husband was away on vacation to Florida I would sink my tension my sexual proboscis my quivering need love healer pole into her. That's her that's her loss her pocket. Once my Ultimate Fantasy so beautiful so wonderful and there she has all her glory she sits next to me where there happened to be an empty seat. We look at each other confused and nervous. What you can we do? Everything is too hazy. We don't even talk we just look at each other a little bit and then we look forwards and embarrassment and social tension. Looking forwards and we're waiting. Both of us waiting with a room full of strangers. Waiting with this room full of Silence nervous strangers for some government officials to come and tell us what to do what happened today what happened. I find a pen and a desk chair and I write on the desk to the great alarm to the great alarm that the great death to the great alarm and set alarm to the grill under the grill.
We're going to make it out of here, this will be ok. Things can go back to the way they were before that thing happened. Apocalypse happened. She's so beautiful. With her blonde wavy hair in her face with her pug nose. Light blue dreamy eyes. I bet her vagina is hot right now I'd like to put my hand on it. Thank you. But we can't really talk. I can't get the words up threw my body the words won't level up their stuff. I can't take it here anymore. I've got to go walk or something. I hope I don't miss that government official with a folder and glasses on. Smiling confidence Godlike government official or maybe he's not like that. Anyway, the government official was going to show me what to do, tell me, give me a chart, show me a film. They're going to give me a sandwich. They will tell me what to do.
When operating the Candelabra I glanced at her occasionally. We used to exchange nude photographs. We still like each other's genitals and laughs. We stuck together when her man was away. When a man is the way it was asked in Holiday. We love. She always was my ultimate goal. In dreams I would chase her through crowded parties and never quite get to her there's always a hallway she is going through as I entered the room. And I need somebody to talk to because. I'm so confused. This confusion is diffused throughout the room. Only a few voices and they are saying the same thing what happened? Do you remember why wait, why are we here? Was it a terrorist attack? Was it an earthquake? I fucking swear I've been here for 3 days now. It seems like it. I came here and my smartphone is still laying in my bed I think. I don't even have a wallet on me. And I glanced at Aubrey. Her beautiful blonde hair going down halfway across her back. Her dramatic face, her pug nose, her pale green eyes. high breasts so perfect I remember sucking on those nipples. locked in the office. I remember loving her late into the night. But now I want to say something, to ask her why are we here? What happened? In the woods haircut like bubbles in the dream, my body jokes the words when I say nothing. I can say nothing that makes sense. Free script off and passwords. That's the most I can do it's all been too much and I don't know. I'm so confused and scared I don't know what's going on. Maybe she feels the same her legs shaking about in spastic Cycles. A glance at her fine breasts. Beautiful skin so sweet she tastes like peaches. And when she looks at me I look down. I'm confused I can't communicate I can't even meet her eyes. Our eyes are independent and we look ahead. Her eyes are they are independent eyes are independent and we may be dead. And I can't take it anymore I'm so fucking nervous and hungry and lost and confused and horny. And I don't know what happened. I want to go outside I want to go roam the hallways it's like there are bugs inside my skin and I gotta walk around. So it's out that doorway with one Last Wish full site of Aubrey. We use to exchange nude photographs. Please lick each other's genitals and laugh...
Make this person. Factors Hidden very well we are known as a template. I'm walking down those wide hallways a muffled echo in deep dissonant Reverb my feet slapping makes repeating taps. I walk by the vendors selling tarot cards and herbal teas. Encyclopedias. Vintage toys. I recognized one toy too late at this table and it disturbs me. It's a shining silver four armed two-legged spider driving a dune buggy and I recognized it as an evil cause I once owned one and it gave me nightmares. I walked on quickly. The lady selling the toys is deeply skeletal scarecrow skinny beanpole woman. And hopefully, she can afford to paint their face her ravished face. It's sad but I can't stay around this find, this demon dune buggy.. Move on move on down the hallway so many people fighting in. I keep on thinking I know this person I worked with that guy. I went to school with that lady. But here's the thing there's only so many faces out there. Only so many hair colors hairstyles and faces in patterns. Sliced pattern tie patterns that I've seen them all by now. You get this old you have seen them all by now you have seen the template. Everybody walking is a template. I think I have seen a face like you before.
Of the ancient trees these great trees so Primal so strong so healthy. I knew it was wrong. They said progress they said forwards they said profit. And I knew it was wrong. They said. Profit. Profit. Kiss the great alarm. And I knew it was wrong. And I knew was wrong. Some of my earliest memories the falling off the big trees that they tell profit is sweet if a tree is coming down and I knew it was wrong and I knew it was wrong. Some of my earliest memories are the following of the ancient trees these great trees so Primal so strong so healthy. Cars empty cars are here at the Civic Emergency Center parked cars go on forever, I'm going to come out of here. Okay, I made it outside.
I'm outside and the fog is heavy. It wasn't heavy 2 minutes ago. The fog is heavy like a chemical fog. It smells like lilacs. Smells like Jasmine. Smells like Patchouli. The fog is heavy and it's raining in the rain tickles me and I left I guess. The rain is like bubblegum delicious all good and I'm laughing. Laughing in the rain. How long how long have I waited? Looking towards the end with my flesh open. Looking for the time. For the gravy. Looking for the nipples the bathing suit exposing areolas through the cloth everybody exposes every Ripple and I like to rub against it with my nose. Looking for the end of time. I should never have been here and I already should have died. But I think I'm dead now. Can I really be dead? Maybe this entire experience that I called my life was post this in the first place. Maybe we're all dead. I think we've always been dead. Always been dead in the sense that you were never born and this storm. We were never born in the cells and the life that this body your body is not you. Only that but it was something you put into. And your Consciousness your bliss your sacred embryo Moonlight DNA kits. It's not you, it's a template. You pack you into a plate. Hold you and fold when you are old. Pack you into a template. Pack you full of hate trembling with the violation. A lot of frustration if you're halfway, even one-fourth of the way awake. Force you back into a template.
I am driving drunk but I'm already dead. Bled out a dry cell. I'm like a dandruff flake. I'm like a run over flattened out dried up snake. And there's no electricity there's no energy drink to bring me back. There's no Bible is no trouble there's no love. Gone now sacred cow it was Bought and it was chewed and it was the menu. Now the sacred cows your stomach and acidic little vomiting phone. As soon as I found out your mouth tonight then. The actor died. Check out my colorful sexy Shroud. You know me now cuz I'm dead. I'm shaking it in your face. So sexy so it makes a serpentine and my sexy Shroud. Androgynous Bliss babies. I can act all girly and still suck the girls. And it's a nice little campfire and roasting marshmallows. We're trading Tales of our afterlife Adventures. This goes on for thousands of years. And I'm glad I'm dead you know. I'm sinking into the warm snow. Just relax this is Pink pink warm snow. And it's above the below. I'm going to show her belt and a hammock made of him. And I'm smoking it's made of wax and I'm choking on the smoke as I slowly inhale my bed. And I'm probably dead. Probably dead. If you're reading this I'm probably dead. You gotta start going on there though. You've got a little chamber in the snow. You're probably already disappointed by the mail. Your probably filthy Latin satin silk transgender filled. You have probably known the Barons of the bucknuckles you probably knew the gates that hold you and you probably been aware of the pain you're in. Like cattle like cattle you prattle it's a battle to keep this up with him. And I know and I go below. Forming Ice Castles little moist your midriff little sexual after bath mat little soul and little coin flips a little dip into the ship little faith in the Crimson bloody phone the God damn bro bitch laugh aftermath. And we pre-created with the uninflated. We fuck what was available only through created little but turns that knew our names. Nothing was the same thing in the world. The atmosphere became chemical. Each Breath You Take has a stale chemical aftertaste. Smoking those Chemtrails give them my lungs suck. Going downtown. Getting drunk. Up Town leg fuck. You probably know on the gates to hold you and you have probably been aware of the plan your at. Like to have a kite chapel you travel it's a babel to keep this up bread chain. And I know and I go below. Forming ice castles little monster mini dress little sexual after bass mass little boy and little coin flip a little dip into this shit little baby in the crimson bloody foam the god damn bra bitch laugh aftermath. The air became tainted, it became chemical. It's breath you take cuz its tail of chemical trail aftertaste. Smoking those chem trails give a mile on fuck. There's Carny painting a metal meadow. Mister rated giving all away and the car and with his tarot. Going folds the beaver dam the explosion ever little want insoles. Wondering around like a trembling little frown wondering around a like a rambling little gown. Got my Shroud. Moose antlers on my head and they're wrapped in green and yellow felt. I'm checking out the rules for you now. Lick these words with braided tongue. I watched your tan skin all Nimble in your ways. I saw this holiday and I knew this holiday was older than the Christian way. Hanging these symbols on the tree and I was like I suspect there's a deeper story. People told me there's no glory there's no deeper story. You just got a weird click of imagination you've got to suck dick of constipation and you need to shut the fuck up about your ideas. I said we're hanging this stuff on the street and there's an older story and older story and her story. They said "You know nothing these objects that you say are artifacts these Native American objects they're nothing but rocks. You got nothing but rocks so go home. I'll grab any artifact out of your hand and fling it into the field". We got a civil micro monkey meat we got this chemical weed we got this bubble gum cherry pop in our mouths we got the south southern blowhard super mouth. And he goes within this world. Our world is made of ego. Ego makes it, go man go. Ego makes it so man, and you've got too little and we want it,to belittle You we can only be big by making You small. Fuck you fuck off and don't ever be tall. Fuck you and fuck your afterlife I've already condemned you. To Hell, you go by way of a popular vote and you're a goat with kids and you got to go. I say we need to go fuck yourself. The share cropper's combine now rigged with a helicopter blade. A combine blade which will chop you up, and you're chopped up into our club and we feed on you. All this time there's no need for you. We just took your resume. And when your money runs dry it's time to die. When your money runs dry it's time to die. And as you do and as you choke and as you puke and as there's no hope. You say trembling space them out at least trembling spasmodically riddles bitter Twitches you say with a vomit avoid death to the great alarm death to the great alarm death to the great alarm death to the great alarm desk to the great alarm death of the real arm death to the great alarm to the great alarm depth of the great alarm. And your words are like Echo Jokes Aside from that little jokes. Space that the wind crosses them it's best that you end up in the graveyard. Space it's your words and your Deeds are thrown into processed servile servo-unit junkyard feed. Impressed that shit and send it into space we don't need any of that. There are your words they're just words and you were nothing. What you got is what you have and what you say is nothing. Unless it's self-promotion you should drown in the ocean will put you there. Will put you there. Put you out in the cold you will die shriveled and old. Choking on his stomach vomit. And we don't fucking care. Where is our check or cash we got our own little stash to give them to be where we are we had to give up our soul, you think we give a fuck that you died and trembled. The medical system they push the button and convert the debtors into cat food. I'm not totally opposed to this give those cats some of me on the list. At least my marrow goes to some food to feed the flowers. At least my blood goes to Juicy flows septic erectile super vomit Cubist hour. At least my little Golden Axe is tacky and you'll forget me. Dancing in a silver rainbow. I saw the stream my driveway long winding driveway became a river. I lived on the fucking Farm once. And I was human. I'm at 110th now from a burning house. I'm reprocessed super meat they said you know nothing these artifacts that you say artifacts these native American objects are nothing but rocks. I'm out now I'm catfish good. I'm not totally opposed to this give a scab some yummy bliss. Please, my metro goes to some old soft white flowers. I'm at work right now I'm a burning how. I'm reprocessed roommate love the tide human being super sewage. Black didn't ask.
The Scarecrow. He is working his fat ass across the broken rotten Rascals. All full of pumpkin faced laughter. And he goes after it. You can't stop him they said I'm up to talk and for all that he did not fall there was no wall for him he made it across and he flew in the Wind. Now he's an eagle. An orange Eagle full of flights all High full of laughing and he'll never die again. The afterlife has treated him well and patted him on the head. Our scarecrows glad that he is dead burnt to ashes by cruel Teenage Wind. When Society broke down things really changed and it was strange strange days ahead. It doesn't matter if your dead though. If you choose an ugly little fist. The past is a hypnotic but fictional Bliss. And I can only look favorably upon the dreamy Little tune that that brings me to Super Cheese Ultra Gloom. Hang it on the meat mat and fancy if it's a bliss it's a little curtain blowing in the wind it's a wind chime telling you the way of the way and it's a Payday it's a little Holiday. I'm glad I gave it all away and I didn't need anything and suck it all anyway. I didn't ask to be here I didn't raise my hand. It wasn't a voluntary super hit nitrous student I didn't purposely Wonder this land. I was happy in my dream and embryos to suck let the curtains drop now. You wanted this all along. My pretty little swan my little go along my little prong my meeting we're going to pull those with an erection to the other store or Another World bound and fuck you with your little lady friend. A little grabby let's write little rules written on a folded kite. You were little rules folded printed on a skin tight. And my eyelids shake with potent dreams. Dream of the afterlife is to scheme and roll the dice.
When You do Your own thing on the endless flat purple plain the hum under the universe. No more I move and no more room. But you'll still think forever suspended I love you. Never became they told you to speak of these with me being these teachings of the candle. These real workings of Kairos departing a mad translated wisdom excited, wondering, simple-minded. The weekends by the lake with way too much beer. Eternal floating above a purple pulsing plane. Slowly shifting dark purple color so beautiful I could stare at them for years but I've been staring at them for eons. And feel your body frozen not showing any sign of Rotting. Soul still hovers ten feet above it looking down for all eternity. It takes the pulsing colors of this plane three years to come full circle. I've gotten in a closing my eyes for nine years and trying to open them during the right cycle.
I, ll tell you why the Scarecrow died. Tied to a Telephone Pole he Was crucified. Mummified all stuffed with pumpkin pie.
endtro by B =
To fully describe the role of a Mystery X within the limits of an endtro supplement to the foregoing farrago is impractical, but, as a starry-eyed sucker, I shall now make my briefest attempt.
To begin: X's effort is the excavation of dream; he is a surveyor of a dark, yawning cavern, out of which one might normally only hear the faintest echoes, only see the briefest flashes, the depth to be viewed with terror and wonder. He has felt the entangling web in front of him, all around him, and he has walked freely, unhurried, into the clinch of it; by liquefaction, the seated skull is transformed from masking bone to vitreous gel, becoming revelatory of all the electrical stutterings sparking from the host matter that has been made to live inside that alien container. This is not a process without faults, and the data retrieved is not possessed of an exactitude that may, perhaps, be demanded by a disciplined analysis.
How does one read a dream? What is the order of thinking? How does one decipher what appears unintelligible to the conscious, reasoned mind? How can it be, as it is, at once entirely astonishing and monotonous?
The appreciation of your breathing is as important to your reading as the words themselves. Inhalation, exhalation. Inhale, exhale. One, four, two, three. Deep inhalation, allowing the full saturation of nervous energy, of the mind, flowing now like thick syrup, crossing the b-b-barrier, sticking to the veins, weighty, heavy, comforting. The world is exhausted and you are of the word. There is no subvocalisation, no echo, nothing but the vibration of the word's heart. These thoughts are all in your head. They persist as you drift.
The book that precedes this endtro could not have arisen by chance, but only through conscious pacing in rhythmic time. Each step measured, made, forward moving. No sudden slice, no zombie jerk: it is anti-découpé, the non-cut-up. The pattern is found in the grass and stone of the endless plain, an authorship awandering in technicolour Kansas. Waking is the sharp and terrible cut-up out of sleep; the dreamer is alert, the metronome ticking.
Having understood the lacing of the text, one must still struggle to disentangle and interpret the provided information. The landscape is damaged; the dream is to fade; first, all too bright, and then, as you adapt, all too dark. Spirals without pause, as if there was an attempt made to prevent the specification of these pure things, forces acting to sacralise and to preserve. How, then, can you decode and profane this book, force it into wakeful logic? If we understand words to have clear values, independent of transitivity, there must be a vivisection. This novel must be made to scream.
Returning to the author, that Mystery himself, who is clearly a man of profound piety, an earnest worker in the field. Any description would be inadequate, and yet we try: he is the yellow-haired boy, thick with straw, overseeing the rows; he is the furious brute, knuckles bloodied, teeth loose and broken; he is the odist, versifier, each finger a flickering and lolling tongue, issuing new thought in the hollows; he is the pauper king; he is the weary wodewose. The field he tends is, like he himself, ageless, thick with roots, stalks, weeds, great stone mounds, broken fences but no insurmountable barriers. (Knowing these things will be of no help to those who seek to navigate, for mysteries are not meant to be solved.)
We now turn the mirror: were you able to pick up on the music latent in the lyrics themselves without seeing any guiding notations or composition? That was the main challenge that X posed to you, the reader, or, more correctly, placed upon you, the player of "Death to the Great Alarm." For it was not a fully textual undertaking, but a symphony in letters, the Maestro X compelling your stringy substance to strain and snap, to bend to the demands of his phonaesthetics and cadence. Passivity could not be rewarded; becoming a participant, the instrument, his orchestra, finding and hitting your cues in time, was the only course to success.
He is possessed, it is true -- and you are his exorcist. It is you who offers the correct prayers over his diaphoretic, yowling body, all swollen protoplasm, repeating continuously, ceaselessly, dutifully, with perfect kindness.
You must answer yourself for what you have done.