Just a little passage/story that i wrote free verse... maybe its about me... maybe its not... i dont know, because i dont know which is me anymore.  But what i do know is they all like the medicated Emilie and i dont cry anymore... But what scares me is that maybe this is not me at all, and the truth will come out.... and they will run, and i will cry again...

I love the feel of my knight's sabre slowly entering her abyss of Queen victorious lust. Meanwhile, a pawn partakes in porn self-fulfillment nodding in the corner awaiting certain castration in honour of her pleasurable dance strategy. My rook is on vacation in the checkered sea of destiny partially flanked by her womb of tempestuous delight. She sees me, the King, ready for submission on a cloud of white squared window selling nothing but mournful complacency. and the ritual is almost over.......

27/07/2009
9:06:47 p.m.
Edge..
_______

the MEAT market.

mindless sex. Use each other. a Means to an end. harsh starch overdose sack of potatoes. Yawn I'm bored. roll over. your bonus tunnel winking peripherally. going through emotionless motions. you are someone else it doesn't help. I will despise myself. beside my self fake omniscience unpleasantries. on your knees. beg to satan please. I hate me suddenly. bleed your bullshit eyes. break down disguised lies. leave right now. will pay for a taxi taxed soul foul play. go pat your own cat to nullified sleep. masturbate your guilt away. don't wanna see you in daytime sobriety. give me the end of this sentence. rent bed cost sanity. ill health inflicted prison. are so deeeep. I'm snoring ZZZZZ.

PSUEDO ABSTRACT depression
_____________________________

Cluedo.

w/a meathook,
in the study, by a window,
overlooking a recently mowed
meadow.

Thursday, 15 January 2009 @ 2:05am in Mt Victoria.

 _________________________________________

Norway Street.
March 2000.


the Solitude of Heart.
the echo that is Love.
the planned- Ending start.
the Equality from above.
the Circular karmic stars.
the lonely, empty plaza.
Fighting on the Gaza.
Angry, hot, molten, Mother Lava.
this/ that life/ Death Extravaganza.
Paparazzi of the illuminati.
the palate of Salvador Dali.
the excessive- submissive Retro- Mania.
the owner of the flashiest car.
the holder of the deepest scar.
the background/ foreground grounded listener.
the Malice of the lonely- gossipers.
the Guilty Alcoholics’ Empty flask.
the wind chimes out- of- time in- time at last.
the breakdown of molecular structure.
the totality of a fraction of Trust.
the lungs of shock punctured.
the corrosion of existing rust.
the animal eye- contact psychic Must.
the stary gaze of Madness lost.
the feelings in which some of us have cost.
the Arrogance of thinking it’s sussed.
the shit in which over we’ve fussed.
the disrespect of our inhabitant Crust.
the Everything in which we take for granted.
the perspective of peripheral sight.
the Perceptibles are ever- so -slanted.
the Control and Manipulation of the Establishment.
the anarchy of individual traits.
this harmonious, peaceful, respectful, considerate, Human race.....

 

how does your garden grow after you bypassed the apocalypse

losing my clothes at the hospital

healing waters

“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.”

Pablo Neruda

poem of resistance