Thursday, August 20, 2015
Flower of the month. Stuck in my mouth. Business side down. My energy up. Young, bitter and bored: constant aggravation. A smart-ass frustrated by the dim-witted. The devil, you know. Degenerated beyond the magic that music makes in your head. My energy up. My energy up. Please sing me songs of days gone by. History as you find it. The underwhelmed are eternal, or perhaps the plain old whelmed. I’ll not give up the ghost at any price. Segue to a downhill stroll. Flower on the mouth. Shucked corn and radiate. Star finder set towards the night sky. Radar radio, nonsuch. A great list of things written down of things for me to do. A great list set in time set in motion. Stand alone against the tree breeze. Stand alone in the garden. Grabbing at straw.
Tuesday, August 04, 2015
Candy on purpose. The matter at hand. Live another day and wreck reigned in to upset proportions. I love the aftertaste that money leaves. The lingering stench. Lagoons filled with murk (oh the murk). Can I revel in the murk? The stand off existence will prescribe then don’t ask why. Shadow makers and mystic fakers and I will drive the car along the pocket. No defense is the best no offense meant none taken. A drawing will always be a drawing. As long as it is drawnt. And side-views cast through rose colored sunglasses take a stab at the night. I’ll take a stab at the night. The night as it was originally intended is a dark thing, a dark thing plopped down along the earth like a soldiers rucksack. Crash glamour is barking and I am still as loveless as a pylon.