Cranberry Bowls

Just drop it. Kitty kat staring at the feet of the V shaped vessels of harmony. Don't dissuade to see why we may not even like the hot stereos. Bit by bit I know that even within the growing towels that no one will ever love me. Professional use of karma may indeed load us with agreeable perversions of autonomous vestige. Like all deals, neither you nor I can pop out the cans because sound waves are ever effervescent. Vibrate like the toy you hide within the secret cave. I want it. You want it. So drop it. Drop it and sit down. Pink cubes float around all of us and yet you say you can't see it. Don't you smell the tinge of fiber within the books. Their spiral bound greatness intrigues only the mice. Squished tomatoes and socks with holes the mexicans can't triforce. Just say it's over. It's all over. Close that door and forget. Raise that glass and toss it on the stove. Beats push forward and flush the room of awesome craze.

15o11

But hark! Yet do I see not yonder forth a light?
It be-eth a last shimmering hope!
Just slightly out of grasp and slowly, ever so slowly falling away.
But I do not reach out.
I stare as it blinks. As it flickers. As it calls out to me.

All I do is stare.

That Is All

I can see only shades of grey.

I'm not a ParasitE

It's just all symbiotic!
Just two separate entities
Living a lie

I Can't do much without you
You can all without me
But you still insist on being infected
and taking me along for the ride

I know I can survive on my own
just barely
You can do fine without my help

You could say we're commensal or maybe mutualistic
But we know we're FLUX

Mr. Fantastic Has Got Nothing On Me

If only we could find the real meaning of things.
Not everything is crystal clear.
It's a haze and the smoke shreds your retinas.
But we don't only rely on sight.
Try to hear out and reach out to touch what's in front of you.
Careful not to fall. Avoid the obstacles and walk away from the noise.
It's too bad you can't see.
Outside is just a reach away.

Far From It

And I always thought I was the fucked up one.
In a sense...I am.
But so are you. And you. And all the rest of us fuckers.
We all desperately wish to be the one at a disadvantage, even those who deny it. Where's the sense of pride of accomplishing everything and nothing in life if everything's been given to you?
There's a disease here. It's the human race. We must stop it.

h(t)urT

I am full of shit.
I have nothing but excuses to tell you.
Excuse me, I am a hypocrite.
Please try to understand. It's how we are all raised.
A dystopian utopia.
That's where we live. It's all a fucking illusion.
Don't look away.

That Is The Sum

I am a pleasure seeking whore
My future lies in pieces on the floor
I am the blind man who can see
I walk on wire surrounded by fog
My steps echo around the confines
of the room in which I am locked away
No doors or windows to let me out

I Need A Resistor

It strikes and it strikes hard.
Live wire and charge volted.
Stand there ungrounded.

A super-surge across your heart and through your eyes.
Snap the wires, flail!
Shock remember, catch them with your eyes.
How do you feel?

I'm sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen.
I sad high, thinking it'd never change.
But the storm came.
Oh, how it mixes.

How close are you to it?
Careful, I might bite again.

Do you think it's best to just let them stay like that?
Maybe it'll fix itself.
That's what I'm hoping for.

Not My Apples

Brazen chill of fire wrestle life out of the lake.
The life of he is wandering in the loser of a heart burned in the sight of the forgetters.
Pick me up by the shoulders, Saints, before the wolves rush through the tunnels and define me.
Bleed the fire, Heat up the hearth with my heart.
Gouge my organs and solder my eyes shut.
Then I won't cry.

The whore will suck you dry.
You'll throw the last of your life towards him.
Regions of toxic abominations will fight their way into your mind.
You're poisoned now, dear.
Keep yourself clear.

I Think I AccidEntally The Whole ThinG.!

This cockamamie pandering of upholstery is not what I asked for. Can't you feel the butter squish between your toes? The pink balderberries fly into my ears. Stark raving lunatic, pistola in the sky. Rise beneath the quicksand you, that brandy isn't mine. Don't you think that piercing blue flash singles us out through the rearing crops of time? I can't hear the bullet rain drops fire upon the hilltops singing doo-wop songs.

Arching of the shoulders I release the trigger from the holster up upon the bee hive. Think critically about the mute thunders and the green mug filled with machines. Pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse pulse. It stops!

It costs $10.78 to hear the myths that the thieves keep beneath their showels. It's the meta-prima role we play off the stage in the moonlight that keeps your lungs filled with air. So brush away the hair off that brow and bellow out before the worms...You are not my master.

It Tastes Like Fish

Clickety Clack! You hear those platonic footsteps come nearer. You turn those things called eyes up and view the bland afternoon from your throne. No feet to be seen or tasted. White shadows slip off the ceilings and smack the floor with a silent sound that jolts a fiery sensation down your spine. Your eyes sucked into your mind like a black hole. Flurry of rage, doves explode out from the asphault. We take our socks and wring out the saliva of the dillbratopators.

Fall through the screen you've been fucking with your eyes. See that it's all just a series of zeroes and ones.

I keep falling through this spectrum of fate that the hordes have forsaken me to. See that warp there, don't touch it! Gunslingers take the bait a war breaks loose the demons frolic. I don't care that you've fallen, grow your own hands to pick yourself up.

Her blonde hair sparks the thunderous roars of the saints. Take me with you away from this infested slaughterhouse. Rip the creators lies out of your brian and bang the mice against the pole. Eat it I tell you! Jump with them and we can chain ourselves to this mirage.

Too Many Fingers Inside the Dimension

The ramifications of these thoughts protrude out from under a car that's speeding through space on a lemon pie. I see the stars whizzing by in the bathroom where the floor is wet and dank. Dank like a joint where you take a long drag and carry the dead body out behind the Taco Bell. I stand at the gates of the fiery disco and get electrocuted by the great Zeus himself. He stands up and drinks the juice from the flower that the hummingbird flew over the pot of gold. The dragons sit on the kitchen and I eat bacon from the chalice made from coke and proceed to shoot the bitch up with a scythe. I really have to pee now that I've assimilated the jello.

--

Poopdeck farcy cracker pants. I don't know what that was. It's going to be wonderful when the stick men fly down the fires with trench coats made from corn. Is this really how things will turn left? It stinks like mug dipped in owl eyes. The hairs from the underwood I see prickle and sing the afternoon delight on a way that I could taste.

ICE! Can I have some apples to throw at the crows in the supermarket. He looks at the pancakes and screams in for the crimson dynamo that is a statue. It saunters across the river three days from the sunlight bouncing off the chrome ladder in the garage.

I try to see how one could start inside out of the pickles that one puts on a burger. I hate sliced pickles like they hate God. Mangos on the other hand are pretty pink ponies that need wings to follow the stick men just above the monkeys throwing acorns.