She told me in spring,
in the fall of my October country,
And they fell
While are they are are naked entities,
Judges bright blue lights on a stadium,
And neon pink underwear in the woman's aisle in K-Mart,
The fishes' story was true, and I am right, but how cruel
Oh god,
To grant me and my friends, you,
This curse. Horrid pox and blank faces,
Loss of soul in all of you,
And a pestilence in your chests.
Weep in my cave, o little one, wee in my heart,
Weep in my ribcage,
Become one of my dolls
But dull boredom is better than life?
Those who answer the question of the best part of life with death, you will like this next part
Spinning and spinning
The spiral teeth flow over her in translucent velvet
He calls them pricks and they call him a cunt
So dance on the axe's edge
Dance in the nuclear wasteland of
New York
The cold sweat flows down all of our backs in the same way,
And a lone branding iron marks the occasion
So scald away my bad parts and make me pretty,
Cut off the evil things and replace them with bibles,
Then paint the wall red,
And the floor blue,
And color me clear
The opening alibi was a doozy,
Spinning back between fiction and reality,
Naked truths borne of pre-natal recognition,
Woven with the sweaty craft of labor
And cast into the breaches of lies
Fly to the moon, and bring me back a moon rock
We could dance in the stars…
You know, I went into the great black once,
And I asked the stars, I said
"May I join you?"
But the star, he said no, and so I now am a diamond
Who doesn't sparkle as clearly as the others
"How?" said the snail to the Beast,
The time-honored philosophy of the small
Never to see the light of day,
Marched on in the shadows of eons and millennia
Smiling fate lifted he
They Were Familiar to Me by skinfollicles, literature
Literature
They Were Familiar to Me
I've been trying to learn the language of the ripples
But their language has too many irregular verbs
And I find myself lost
Stuck with a map in hand
Hacking and slashing;
Slash your way through the jungle, son;
For the time has come and gone
And the clocks all stopped at 6:32
The man lying under my bed speaks in rhymes and rhythms,
He tells me that everything is going to be okay,
But I don't believe him
He is dating the lady who is sleeping with the man who lives across the street from her
Don't tell them:
I killed my friend in his sleep
The blood went spurt spurt
And the birds went chirp chirp
And the funny thing was, when a
He controls your heart in spades,
A bulldog poker game,
Cartoon television shows about the snobby cat learning the value of honesty and kindness...
Don't worry, together we can learn the plot:
I watched myself when I was 6.
The banjo players from March watched me,
too,
While chewing great organic vegetables
with gnashing slitted teeth.
When I turned 12 I started watching you,
I'd like to cut my finger off,
Send it to you in a package:
say, a manilla folder that would pass through the hands of a suicidal social worker with a phony smile named Mark.
My afternoon pants grow shorter,
But the tabloid Sundays taught me another thing.
No, don't, I still have $15... by skinfollicles, literature
Literature
No, don't, I still have $15...
The apple falls far from the tree,
It rolls red down green
Does it leave a streak on the cool hillside?
Does the crimson colour hurt grass-blades, do they call out?
"No," declare local physicians
"But I do have a miracle of modern science I would like to…"
Cut off by the buzzing loud
The phone cord snaps on a tearing, bending, grinding impulse
White silhouettes floating across Shakespeare curtains.
The man put his life down on the line,
And so he ended,
Because the foolish who rush into their blank fate,
With open palms to be crucified and eyes to be scratched,
Do or do not deserve their fate….
The muse inspires man,
We march t
Heaven isn't Starbucks by skinfollicles, literature
Literature
Heaven isn't Starbucks
Heaven is the log flume ride in San Francisco,
Heaven is a seedy strip joint in west Texas.
Heaven is a broken cave standing in a river of unfiltered Camels,
Crumbled walls in silver moonlight, condensed into a visible illusion.
Heaven is the man you killed,
With a blue-brown birthmark on his hairy chest,
A blue-brown birthmark tattooed next to a festering wound
Crimson-black,
"Guns don't kill people, People kill people."
Heaven is the mind of an autistic infant,
Heaven is the last line of cocaine lifted from the top of a urinal,
His name is Brad, and he works in programming,
Heaven is the pale cheek of a white Buddha statue,
It
I just had a slight breakdown and chopped off my hair... don't look like even the same being anymore... laughing a lot...sorry...? have newfound love in life... look like Clark Kent... plan to make Hair-Bears and hang them on necklaces