Sunday, September 25, 2011
Mirrors of the very things that keep us docile and at ease. Unfiltered fear and white lies that help us digest our processed breakfasts with hearty smiles. Look up over the bar that will soon open- do you see it? Yes. It's the end of the world. There's blood covered faces. Weeping authorities, fires that blaze where flames were once unthinkable. Nuns drowning themselves with Crucifix in tow. Christ's body slowly diverging from the earthy plain and suffocating in the yellow pollution-coated foam of the Pacific. Elephants running through the metropolitan streets...it's the weirdest thing you've ever tried to witness: but it's real...I guarantee it's fucking real.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Leading looks from friends
Cause inward gazes within
Presumptuous shadows predicting lengthy moves
Proven schematics amongst shrill screams upon asphalt
Rolls and lumps of construction material that make up nothing
Our black remnants undulate against the waves of rock
Torrid language variegated by the sky’s shine
You gleam after every accomplishment
The trademark sparkle on my reflection’s charm
I could watch you forever
I sit in amazement and hope your eyes meet mine
I will keep this seat as warm as I can.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
I can't force "art" from my mind or fingertips. Only warning signs. The latest conversation I found validity in consisted of me being incorrect- not because I was wrong but because I didn't share opinion. In the future, bread will be broken upon secret slurs of martyrs' names. All else will warrant death. I can only relate the relays - the electrical pulses sodomizing my grey matter. I fling the cum in your general direction hoping it blinds you as much as it clogs me. Understand this: my vulgarity comes from anger- and not at you of course...no, no, no- not you you sublime being. You alabaster sculpture you. You're perfect. Maybe if you continue believing these theories- the urban gang rape wont hurt as much. The melting faces of hooded thugs can't bludgeon your memories for decades. The smog filled clouds cease to bother when every fiber of being turns to pulsating pain. All blue veins fill with black hate- torrid fissures expanding throughout your self image. You are nothing because you know it now. Now make something of yourself.
*Bear in Heaven - "Deafening Love"