logical gibberish

Prick your finger, make a thick smear, put a load of crap on and watch as it clots into a thick goop. WATCH; watch like your life depends on gaping at its crimson coldness.

Something that was a part of you a minute ago, something that you were a part of a minute ago, warm liquid, liquidly warm. Turn it into some freakin specimen. WAIT, wait for its abstractness to surface. Stick your eyeball deep within and find what she says you are supposed to find, THE RABO NACLOCOBOCO ACO. Same shit everyday.

Rains outside, fuckin rains outside, falls onto his abandoned torso. Diamonds on his belly pot. Two feet five inches of nascent glee. His pretend mate, all shy and hazy. Eyes pretending to empathize with my soar finger, his grin mocking the orphaned dab of my red smear.

“Dude, this is some bullshit, I aint slittin myself, looks like ure already cut, squeeze some of it here wont you”. Sure, with pleasure you spectacled assface. Here take a drip, take it all, hell shove the whole god damned thing up you ass, I don’t care.

I don’t care until the little bum splashing outside disappears. Why cant he just go, go where everything else went. Place called ‘AWAY….’. Heard about it a couple of days ago. Heard about it a lot lately, somewhere far off. Across the dingy marketplace, through some poets forgotten palace with the makeshift P.C.O booth. A u-turn from the red light, to the left, maybe the right.

Clear up; make it fast and clear it all up. Break the needle, wash it off. WASH; wash until every part of its blend dissolved. All wiped off.

OFF AND AWAY.

my splendid bareness

They are not the dreamy, foggy and seemingly smiling silhouettes anymore. Suddenly everything becomes lucid, the faces, the shadows and the eyes. They definitely are not smiling anymore.
Something falls from the inside of me; it falls from the zenith of all my sensations, some place where am used to keeping it, all clean and shiny. Why have I managed to find the comfort in it, the comfort I never could quite find in myself. Why was it always perfect?
But now it falls, it slips from the shelf and falls. Deep down into the darkness where am unable to hear it shatter into pieces. How I long to see its perfection smash into oblivion.It is scary, feels really good for some strange reason, but scary, to not have my gods up where they should be, up where they have always been. why is it comforting to see the light shining on the empty surface, smooth and warm, smooth and warm.