A ProblemA man has just entered the room. He’s a corpse. He’s smiling nervously, and he has brought with him an instant of intolerable stink. He’s in love with you. You know this because that’s what he told you, and you have no reason to believe that he would lie about such a thing. I mean, why would a corpse lie? Before he confessed his love to you, he just stood and stared and you stared back at him, your hand covering your nose as you gasp for breath. You were wondering who this tramp was, and why you recognised him. You were wondering why this tramp looked so much like a corpse, and why he stinks like how you’d imagine a cA Problem
ApokalarkaesthicsShe heaves triumph over triumph, her teeth grindingApokalarkaesthics
At the centre of the earth; salt, spit
And sweat: sustained by an ego that denies
The cosmos. The amorphous swaying
Of the lanterns touch the peripheries
Of my perspective: a cathartic
Flow. The shadows of smoke; the distant snarl
Of apocalypse. Angels swarm
Deformed through the remnants of
Eternity, whispers of grandeur
Crawling cracks across her skull,
The crescent frowns descending upon
The throbbing half truths, an
Astrophysical fit of
Hysteria. There stands another
Me: &
The Ice StormThe ice glimmered on spindly fingers. Crystal twigs clinked softly. Soft-sad music kept time to the beat of her freezing heart. Her footsteps crunched along the thin layer of crystallized snow-ice. Crystallized, like her entire life – frozen into a soft-sad structure, glimmering, almost heartbreaking, in the moonlight. He returned that night, a cold dark figure, reappearing on the horizon, marching steadily, slowly towards her, past her. Two days; he had been gone two days. Not a lifetime, she thought; only a moment – a frozen moment. But within thThe Ice Storm
bwahahaha!
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descensus in cuniculi cavum.
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I try but you see it's hard to explain.
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I ain't in no hurry, you go run
And tell your friends I'm losing touch
;D
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HEYHEYHEYHEYHEY!!!!
LISTEN UP BIZATCH
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Garbed in ultimate fuck-uppery, black rotten heart covered in lipstick and gore.
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"The world is nothing but the mind and what is the mind? The mind is nothing but the world, goddammit." - Jack Kerouac, Dharma Bums
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