Sep 23, 2008

Mind The Merging Mesmers


We don't speak of the dead but if we do it shouldn't be unkindly; call it duality or hypocrisy or human nature and good animal husbandry. Men lie, whether to themselves or the ones they claim love for or everyone and then some Gatling style, only; for every reason and none, to bring you close and then chafe at it or treasure in it and sometimes both; for power in egos Dopplered ponds, all tiny, and nonexistent; street? Call 'em both Fucked Street. Fuck'd. There, I digress, nothing but and huh no how feeling? The buoy I have to sit on? What is that cold that radiates out from the chest? All feeling. What's that giggling through the anger, over its utter insignificance in every known universe ever. Forgive my unkindnesses. I think you should believe in UFO's and lightning bugs, in every thing that ever was once and isn't now but still is and crawls up your neck and little hairs in sacred woods full of litter; it isn't nothing, eating yourself.