I see a ring hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of light.
I see a slab of pale yellow spreading away until it meets a purple stripe.
I see a globe hanging down in a drop against the enormous flanks of some hill.
Islands of light are swimming on the grass. They have fallen through the trees.
A shadow falls on the path like an elbow bent.
The stalks are covered with harsh short hairs and drops of water have stuck to them.
The grey shelled snail draws across the path and flattens the blades behind him.
And burning lights from the window-panes flash in and out on the grasses.
Stones are cold to my feet. I feel each one, round or pointed, seperately.
The back of my hand burns but the palm is clammy and damp with dew.
The beast stamps; the elephant with its foot chained; the great brute on the beach stamps.
The walls are cracked with gold cracks and there are blue, finger shaped shadows of leaves beneath the windows.
I am green as a yew tree in the shade of the hedge. My hair is made of leaves. I am rooted to the middle of the earth. My body is a stalk. I press the stalk. A drop oozes from the hole at the mouth and slowly, thickly grows larger and larger. Now something pink passes the eyehole. Now an eye-beam is slid through the chink. Its beam strikes me. I am a boy in a grey flannel suit. She has found me. I am struck on the nape of my neck. She has kissed me. All is shattered.

It makes a sound like thunder
it makes me feel like rain.

This waiting business is getting to me.

Let there be no flowers

Personal vendetta against people who buy other people flowers. Why would anyone spend good money on what looked really nice in a gamla and is now deader than a dead doorknob and is wrapped in cellophane?
The next person who gets me flowers is going to get whacked repeatedly on his head with his own bits of plastic and decaying flora. *growls*
People should spend money on:
Cigars : )
Crayons
Mint chocolate chip ice cream
Viennese coffee ice cream
Books
Soundgarden

Happy christmas all.

It's early but I want to do this now.

Jingle bells
Batman smells
Robin laid an egg
Batmobile
Broken wheel
Santa Claus is dead.

Barbie Doll
Barbie Doll
Tried to save his life
But G. I. Joe
With a 44
Stabbed her with a knife.

Happy christmas mofos.

Buzzard

*sigh*
Don't know what she's trying to recreate. It gets to me. This way there is little that can survive. The catch is that it comes back. Everytime. And it leaves her dazed and happy and breathless. But these little highs are few in between. They never last. The source sways. There is no place like numbers. The sun's rays are digital according to Nim.
I saw the lines today, few hours back. More like bumpy rolls. People never are enough. The irony is staggering. Honestly I want that back. High stress lifestyle and all. There's a buzz in my throat again. Fresh earlobe.
Crave your brand of familiarity.

Do you want to hear that dream?