Tuesday, January 19, 2010

The shedded skins of winter days- Typewriter tokens

A guinea pig nodding it's head along with me, being equally disgusted by a wassail orange impaled with cloves... at that point I began discussing my nausea on the subject of shower drains, this continued 30 minutes later followed by a rejection of an invitation to steal garbage from the State, it was too cold for illegal shinanagans.
Why is society possessive of its' garbage?

I want to wrap myself up in the 20Th century like a blanket, crawl back in to the womb, I can't attach myself to these radical ideas begging me to pull the plug on worship of human accomplishment, because I'm proud to be human when I see Landry-mattes, hot air balloons, tattoos, Nickelodeon goo and 90's films.
The means
there is only one middle,
medium of mind, feed the earth with our cultural quirks. Make our voices lovable, like Japanese assorted paraphernalia catalogues in the school nurses desk. Oh, we're juvenile delinquents, 'Man I need a TV when I feel like T. Rex.'
I talk to fast, I sleep to fast, I drink to fast.
Everyone is slipping through my fingers, like Sufjan Steven's voice through my ears, including me.
*************$#&@$*%@(#@2 days of sleep
My life was given a dephibulation, twining twigs of secrets in sea creatures and the nuts in nutella.

And all the things I imagine, they’re all in my room, my room is my subconscious, my imagination, the things I don’t think about, I don’t think about my room it just happens, I just walk in and its like looking into someone’s eyes and never leaving them I can stare in to my brain for hours, with no particular reason or curiosity, no problem to be solved, no question to be answered, and no fear to be squelched.

Silence is my deadliest weapon, the reason it's more deadly than my nail or some secret jujitsu class for closeted lesbians, is because I know that silence can turn on me, remind me that silence is the choice that sounds like you have no choice.


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