Thursday, May 23, 2013

The [after]Effects of Red Wine Upon a [wo]man's Spirit, or, "A Titscendantal Crisis, One Among Many", or, "Two Long Nights [ago]".

[Ears ringing, note, natch]

Dreams of tits, clouds of tits just raining. I try to keep it towards some semblance of reality, but jeezus how the tears fall, you know?? If I could be left alone with the knowledge that I am alone, I may be able, just maybe, to grasp upon a falling leaf, to grasp the breeze like a chickenshit rodeo clown, who knows? Oh, this feels so good, as if I'm freefalling again; one again so sweet at the breast of Nipple. Treat me beastly, feed me poorly when I beg to be fed. O Lord, the Almighty Church of Nipple-Fist Action! These flags of Vein will take millenia to decipher, and by then there will be no word for nipples!? Someone is the only fruit worth desecration, as if it became life upon its abortion, but who believes? Certainly none of the cunt I deem worthy of words, they all too smart to be bedraggled with the decidedly unhip notion of THEISM but at any rate I challenge on, I challenge on, always the shepherd of a land that few would beg a difference. So tonight I am left alone to a flip-side, mosquito pest pestilence pestilence

feels so good to write. I may as well write it a few more lines...

Wear your bird-mask, protection against the miasma! The inherent, inherent miasma. As if the very repitition changed the nature of the evil words that come freely. As if my hands were dragons, my fists dragons, my tongue eyes bladed dragons...

And so I survey a landscape raped from a youthful ambition to find tits to spill my cloudy blood upon. CLOUDY BLOOD.


[heart] [skull] AtD '13

fun to attempt a decipheration of my inundated crossthoughts, to scratch a translation upon glass, all "[sic]" by nature [sic], Shea is passed-the-fuck-out on my ratcouch, Nina Simone sings

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