hermes
Acrobat
I offer no explanations of this.
there?s no way to get out of this pretty. it?s been moving, a particle, from the lips of beast within the walls. shudders off the drum, bounces somewhere, deep within the nervous system. your god howls and whines, your goddess deflects his blows, sending her to the plaster and you to your room. there?s no way to get out of this pretty.
Things have to be said.
Follow my finger with your eyes. Watch it move back in forth. Focus, can you focus? What do you see?
I see portraits and landscapes. Two monoliths and bowl shaped face, looking down at me, form nowhere.
No, here. right here. What do you see? One or two? Index or thumbs?
Two, two, 2...
And a night ago, you were whispering. vibrating everything. A night ago. everything was vibrating. Your whisper was an Echo and your echo was your scream. Three, two, 8 and nine. This is the story of my life. your god screams, and falls into the water. face first. she tears into his back, the water is sluice with his body. the islands are refuse.
And your not listening.
Nowhere was it more apparent, than here.
A plain, a granite man. A facile offering, appeasement, nothing satisfactory. A bird and a copper stained rock. nothing worthy. I feel his breath on my neck.
Just charts really, but the results are interesting.
So close. very, so very. the hair on my neck stands up, and it?s ends reach his lips. his dog breath is staining my nostrils. snarl a little.
Nothing totally abnormal, just this.
And of course I turn, to the assumed him. A tooth and fang upon me. Yellow eyes blazing, a warm face. A dearly departed. stomps away.
18, sixty-two, 77, 3, 10, three, 9
a fish. a stream fish. a stream fish on paper. almost drowned. wake up in bed. face first. burning, all over in the cold dampness, a searing. Last night, hanging in her closet, upside down, she held it close and brutal. Delicate and blunt, close to me, gleaming. Slowly, piercing, digging further and further, to breast bone, the blade giving forth surges of blood. She carved a heart into my chest. licking my eyes, moving away, proceeding. bound and hanging, it began to fill my nostrils, ride in my head, burn my thought, thick warmth. gagging and spitting. She finished, I slept. woke in cold. staggering, zig zag cubist room had become. paralleling, and proceeding away, perspective forcing itself on me. In the bathroom, silver mirror, I traced the outline of her heart where the skin hung loose.
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Steve
SAME OLD STORY- Hardcore American Comedy
there?s no way to get out of this pretty. it?s been moving, a particle, from the lips of beast within the walls. shudders off the drum, bounces somewhere, deep within the nervous system. your god howls and whines, your goddess deflects his blows, sending her to the plaster and you to your room. there?s no way to get out of this pretty.
Things have to be said.
Follow my finger with your eyes. Watch it move back in forth. Focus, can you focus? What do you see?
I see portraits and landscapes. Two monoliths and bowl shaped face, looking down at me, form nowhere.
No, here. right here. What do you see? One or two? Index or thumbs?
Two, two, 2...
And a night ago, you were whispering. vibrating everything. A night ago. everything was vibrating. Your whisper was an Echo and your echo was your scream. Three, two, 8 and nine. This is the story of my life. your god screams, and falls into the water. face first. she tears into his back, the water is sluice with his body. the islands are refuse.
And your not listening.
Nowhere was it more apparent, than here.
A plain, a granite man. A facile offering, appeasement, nothing satisfactory. A bird and a copper stained rock. nothing worthy. I feel his breath on my neck.
Just charts really, but the results are interesting.
So close. very, so very. the hair on my neck stands up, and it?s ends reach his lips. his dog breath is staining my nostrils. snarl a little.
Nothing totally abnormal, just this.
And of course I turn, to the assumed him. A tooth and fang upon me. Yellow eyes blazing, a warm face. A dearly departed. stomps away.
18, sixty-two, 77, 3, 10, three, 9
a fish. a stream fish. a stream fish on paper. almost drowned. wake up in bed. face first. burning, all over in the cold dampness, a searing. Last night, hanging in her closet, upside down, she held it close and brutal. Delicate and blunt, close to me, gleaming. Slowly, piercing, digging further and further, to breast bone, the blade giving forth surges of blood. She carved a heart into my chest. licking my eyes, moving away, proceeding. bound and hanging, it began to fill my nostrils, ride in my head, burn my thought, thick warmth. gagging and spitting. She finished, I slept. woke in cold. staggering, zig zag cubist room had become. paralleling, and proceeding away, perspective forcing itself on me. In the bathroom, silver mirror, I traced the outline of her heart where the skin hung loose.
------------------
Steve
SAME OLD STORY- Hardcore American Comedy
