plugin&play
If you read, you will judge. | ||||||||
My Dear we're slow dancing in a burning room |
Tuesday, November 2, 2010, 9:59 PM
Wait, wait like a lion stalking an already dead deer, cold and stiff Ebbing away at the corners of our hollow souls till nothing's left, Teeter on the loom of a whole other world, shouldering weights we couldn't lift, Closer, and closer, days and weeks flying by at the same pace we make conversations, hi, hello, you ready? I'm good. You? 3rd, 4th, 8th, 35th, 152nd, 230th, closer like the shadow getting bigger as we walk towards a brick wall, closing in the distance until suddenly it seems as if distance was like fading air, dissolving dust in decrepit pits of blood filling up a hole in the ground, deep wells mean well but don't quench thirsts. Some far off corner of a crumbling building Robin shoots a quiver of speed at my head but the apple is not there and slowly i feel the world around me shedding like the skin of a snake, hair falling off a dying body in a cold room, the cement of the morgue greets my teeth as i grit them, hard onto the ground like a sack of broken pots collected from a forgotten tomb in the middle of the desert. Insignificant. I wake up. We stand in a court full of high priests. Blind relics waiting to laugh at our faces. Their hands reach into deer-skin pouches and scoop salt out, scattering them at our blistered feet. We scream but we have no mouths. Silence like a fallen tree in an empty forest. Who's to hear it? One bye one, we are reduced to alphabets. A, C, D, D, B, A, A, D, C, C, C, A, U, Struggle to not cave in to the weight, knees, joints muscles, advance, retreat, advance, retreat. Sick and tired. I'm with you. Signs. Indicators. Codes. The root of all assumption. We made them so we could feel intelligent, so that we could tell when something was happening, about to happen, or not happening, everywhere. Low GDP indicates weak growth in a country's economy, an unusually high exchange rate means that your country will most probably experience a dip in your export revenue if Marshall's condition doesn't hold true. A word like fuck or shit indicate the author's disjunctured state of mind, aggression breeding from deeper emotional states of discord and chaos. Effect? To invoke catharsis and pathos in the reader. Signs are everywhere. Stemmed from paranoia. Feeble attempts to instill order on our already chaotic lives, signs to trigger responses to make dealing with a situation quicker and easier. I'm tired of following your signs. Your face like a flipping coin, inconstant. I can't tell, i don't know. Don't use that word on me, stop trying to make it seem as you don't know that i care. I follow your lead like a jumping dog responds to the flick of another being's wrist holding a branch, eager to catch for you. Eager to run with a bucket to catch your falling tears. Eager to give you the warmth you want. The warmth you need. Pluck you out like a thorn in the side of my arm, cut you off like a hang nail digging into the side of my toe, unplug you like a heart moniter dug deep into the drum beat of my heart until all that i hear is a constant beep that drowns out all the other sounds that you're making until i'm erased away by a bigger hand and my dust is blown away into the winds of time and time itself stopping so that my existence becomes the very dead thing that centres the core of a frozen rock buried in a mountain of solid ice. Don't wake me up. I'm tired. |
the machiavellian ist
Vanity isn't a sin, a little narcissm wouldn't hurt.Andrew. Music. Food. People. What more could you possibly want? |
partnersincrime
One day when i wake up and find the motive and time to link anybody, i'll let you know. backtoyesterday
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An accidentality production Inspiration from DancingSheep & BONBON:D |
theventingmachine
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