Tuesday, October 28, 2003
Run to the victory lane with your head between your knees each night before sleep hits you in the face with a sledge. I poke the pole and sit to listen to the ting. I wonder what things used to be like before I decided to forget it all. Would you please pinch me. Wipe that grin from your check with a used napkin. I like the ideas you think when you're alone. I list the properties of matter next to my groceries and wind string around my finger to remind me to hate. To hate the distance. To trash a gated community with a blade of grass.
Monday, October 27, 2003
Who's that sitting there looking all unimportant. I hate to distract one away from the things they have to do . . . but excuse me . . . excuse me please . . . just for a second while I shoot this flare in the trash can. Take the planet for instance. Well done my good and faithful mistake. Oh wait did that come out wrong excuse me. I divide the flesh and spirit because Descartes defines his universe by thinking. I know that there has to be more. Replace my innocence with a factory of images that are destroying my heart systematically. Rebirth. Go back to what you used. Go back to what used to. In the past tense tension reigned and I closed my eyes hoping that it would all relieve itself. Won't you just leave me alone. Alone without a clock. Alone without a future. I'm sorry for interrupting this disappointment. Paraphrase the captions and stutter like a deaf man afraid of public speaking. The means of communication are limited because I don't even know what I'm saying. The means. The means. Always the means. Minutes ago we were only concerned with outcomes. Without coming to anywhere. Scrapping the bottom of the barrel to believe in the nothing that is around me. All around. Excuse me did you get that. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Secrets amongst friends make the burdens fresh like saltwater taffy in the morning. Hop into a magic carpet and pretend the rug is more than enough. Sweep the street with a car chase and burn rubber for dollars on street corners where children beat buckets. To challenge the playing field I bought a sofa and sheeted it on the floor. Emblem after swipe and emblem I dropped the contents of the future mortgage for ducketts. I need to bang a bucket.
Friday, October 24, 2003
I don't know what the feeling feels like anymore. Is it the kind of thing you can sink you teeth into? I've lost mine long ago. I don't know if there is a system or a path to take beside the I fall down everyday. Take the mountain and put it on its head and spin it like a top. Take the whole world in his hand and think about how small you are.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Release the hounds on the dung pile of reviling stench. Pinch my brain wave and push save on the grave of a mattadoor. A land sore always dodging the bulls and dodging the rules and dodging like fools from rotten tomatoes. Radios and Shock Jocks talk big talks on things dark and the moon catches midnight by surprise. I advise that the lives of the scribes be taken seriously. Reversely laugh at the illiterate illegitimate children of time. Crime after crime committed out of wedlock leads to deadlock. Expect the infamous to distance their legacy form their relentless purist of nothingness.