Washed up, like dried fishes hanging from the stonewalls of heart
There’s a sad war-song playing somewhere.
It’s nothing. Just the silence. And me leaning back
And and appreciating the splendour of doom.
There’s a road there’s there a there’s love a love in shadows and reflections
Swaggering, stumbling, careening along the shores, white shores
Creatures with white bellies, rotting, spotting a dot of yellow
in caravans. The finest fuck, the finest wine, all fine
everything’s okay everywhere’s okay just that this road that there is is bending through body through mind through numb soul is tying city tying mountains rivers in knotted meshwork
floating balloons, oh, o touch my fingers and submit to meek submission. Dogs bark at horizon. Cold night falls. Creatures of night creatures of cold make merry. Joyous heart, rebellious heart
smashes through the end-points.
Dear child, you were not as mad now as you were when we first met
This fluctuating what
This, fluctuating, what
Flukchuate fluk flipping fallacy
Gasoline linoleum bowel
Fuck suck dick
Kant can’t cunt
The motherfuckers are closing in on me
Bullshitting our heads twisted glands glans bitter minds glands glancing at plump dancers
In chiffon slurp. Prehistory rages storm strom strotrrrm scrotum. Dream’s mother. Dream’s splendid women bending down, showing ass, showing eternity on asscrack tickling scrotum with tongue-tip
It all ends in shit.
I’ve noticed that it feels better to slump a thumpload of shitty shit solid slunk shitpot flush down like flushing down sad memories of separation on shitpot of heart with alcohol than to write poetry and pretend poetry. Poetry is bitch. I’d rather masturbate.
Hot dogs hot bitches red hot hot
Hot tigers in fury hot lions in kingly savage rage
Hot heating heated universe hot all hot shit hot vapours of total absolute unqualified annihilation of the self.
Hot pain on getting shot in hot ass.
Arraborra arra starra
Other spillens have spullen
Authored by one big iron hand
That vanished yesterday
ruins, chewchew, formaldehyde
arraborra blurra blarra
spillen spullen angst
smitten by ebb and flow
of ever-changing conceptions of the All
eaten by eternity vlod
no reason to mourn
child, child, why?
Big child playing big child lost
Where’s your room, child?
Who’s your mom child? Who’s your dad, child?
Or is it just this evening
Big child playing
Big child sad
Big child in clouds
Scared of city
Scared of roads
Scared of decay
Like hemlock. Like Hamlet. Like an elephant brutal in passion.
Wining with long haired women dining with brothers of love
Hatred suppressed, love beats forth. Stop. No further
Sadness dangling down jackets hanging from socks
Stuck to shoelace sadness choked smiles masks omelette oollala
We’re told to be patient even if they’re doing shit to us
As if respect to shitters is due.
To worship the ill-spending of lives, to live for other people
To be denied the choice of denial
is, supposedly, the way to go.
Advertisements good advertisements absence of pretty women presence of misery
Party was good we sang we danced vodka was smooth absinthe was hard passed out before having scotch puked on carpet on vanity puked on boobs of cosmos party was good was good good
Touch the sword a flower blooms
Pull a switch the flower wilts
Humping the horror
Tribulation of the masses
Fatigue and decay
Fall and death
Individual lives long fucks short
Cock throbs pussy throbs rain throbs rainbeat whores and piped windmills throb throb in patterns of definite congruence.
Mother i can’t associate with this sanity anymore
Eighteen defeats loom
Eighteen climes of doom
Urban days, fertile nights
This is a game
Of deathless life
Cliffs smoothen up
Beyond this city these roads these buses and trams and automobile fumes beyond porches driveways slums sewers all beyond mountains forests broken pianists violins in fury beyond all beyond
words and spaces
dots and dashes
ditty and turbulence
soporific fixation of repetitive beats drum heart fuckall world there’s
Terrified silence, something great, like a heavy voyage this loveless cruelty cruel love it looms
Something big and brutal.
Maybe this perception is of a ship carrying unspoken thoughts to the realm of unspoken thoughts. Wonder who rules over there. I’d love to wage war against him.
Or maybe it’s just the night rolling down some mountain of darkness pressing me down bending my bones bending my mind.
Whatever, it’s still out there somewhere. Very big and very scary. Like the king of wolves. Or the queen of whores.
Dying by own hands is preferable over contingencies
It’s like, i don’t feel like being here’s worth it and so i check out.
Society fucks the elements up
Death of one may not have got much to do with society or any such shittyshit
For me, sitting here and waiting is not worth it.
So i’ll get up and i’ll search for something sharp
And the guards will be stationed such that they’ll get to see the first light. An ocean in stormy turmoil. A city of inane sanctions. Wherever pointless junk pointfuck bloodshot aim revenge turmoil.
The average won’t feel this.
They’re too busy losing and loosing. They think that they’re winning. they thing they’re tight.