|
|
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| An aleatoric soliloquy to the fattest, ugliest bitch I ever fucked during my ten month party-release parole program from the elephant dung shoveling detail inside the circus ridiculous.
| | Exactly what you've tried so long and hard to avoid. ( obsolete modes of ventilation / self-righteous indifference / unusually jaded vegetation ) Submit yourself to the soliloquy and please keep clear of any and all further unauthorized replications for your own sake as well as your auditors. |
| | |
| As the covens of irresponsible freedom convene at the confluence of counter-confirmation, population suppression, and non-terrestrially based particle beam weaponry the first and last rule is still and always will be SHUT THE FUCK UP which makes it all the more difficult to distribute information of a paramilitary nature without guilt eroding through paranoia. The puppet citizenry performance yanks the lines that make us think. Tries to tell us how to walk and talk. We beg of you. Give us half an excuse to execute every last one of you. You go against the grain and you get shaved sideways. Clever isn't clever when the aim is to be clever. In that case it's just marketing.
| |
| | |
| I want you in my face so I can smell the faint fragrance of fear on your breath and the fetid flicker of phoniness beneath the armpit deodorant and the hygienic body wash you bought on sale at the pharmacy this morning. The best of the worst you is losing faith in our mutual means to self-fabricate. The will of WE is likened to a child who can't stop going on and on about the new toy he got for Christmas 'til damn near Easter. A raving lunatic at the height of hir lunacy. It's not funny, but we're laughing at it anyway. We make up new ways to parody the threat of retro activating our own extinction from a future-past we perceive in disproportionate dimensions in multiple universes.
| |
| | |
| WE exist in Hilbertian space. Eternally formless and meta-fluidic yet aroused by the closed circuit of direct dreaming and the spontaneously alternating current of invocation.
| |
| | |
| We record. They record. Together we split the gas bill and follow the Telluric currents toward the shimmering artifacts left behind from compression after the progressive enchantment loads a clear image of the interconnected . Your ineptitude in the lingual prosthesis never ceases to drive me to disbelief. Why is there a couch and love seat protruding from your navel? Almost seemed like winter when I dropped this half-eaten mounds bar and this half-smoked cigar at the fork in the road on the north end of my street. Later I'll smear that t-shirt you came and bled allover with urushiol then tie it into a triple knot. I will leave your original verjuice bound to cotton strands at the intersection of forty deuce and b-way where hundreds of thousands of passers by will make contact with this semiotic simulacrum of your stochastic sentience.
| |
| | |
| The only truth is, everyone dies.
| |
| | |
| I think the sun has been eying me since I left the southwest. Last two summers I complained about the humidity up here in the northeast as I longed for the season-less perfection of dry arid desert. Is it too cold to break the ice? I don't know if it was the conversation I had last night, but I feel a lot less insane this morning. I'm sorry I'm forced to admire you from afar, but my words are too powerful for anything I say to be casual. Too receptive and literal for my jokes to be taken lightly. I've heard that migratory patterns are disintegrating while vegetation don't know its ass from its elbow or its stamens and pistils' or whatever. Tulips and honeysuckle living together. Mass hysteria!
| |
| | |
| Long before anyone told me how to bowl better I explored the Dao of Wednesday night dollar games at the Mesa bowl followed by binge drinking and endless rounds of pool at the Palo Verde, that fucking shit hole. Taking shots of Cuervo between each dutch we'd burn out back and wondering why the guy with the patch on his eye was so good at banking cornered balls what with the lack of binary depth perception and all. We assumed the patch was fake and that the single eye gave him an advantage. I guess we'll never know.
| |
| | |
| Unless of course you fucked him too.
| |
Revision as of 01:07, 6 February 2007
Exactly what you've tried so long and hard to avoid. ( obsolete modes of ventilation / self-righteous indifference / unusually jaded vegetation ) Submit yourself to the soliloquy and please keep clear of any and all further unauthorized replications for your own sake as well as your auditors.