Sunday, November 4, 2007

three feet deep in the desert sunlight i was todl of am amndlaktj

There is

“Inna gadda da vita” is playing on an endless loop, crushing my skull, frying my brains, freeing my decrepit soul. It’s not that the gods are powerless, it’s that they got bored of this game. Because even when you change the rules, the story’s always the same. A large caterpillar turns away from his bong and his haze of remembrance of things never was and asks me a question with no answer: “who are you?”

a house

She is the firestorm. She is the end of the world. She is the ghost on the whisper of the dying desert wind.

In New Orleans

Of course there are vampires, those around at the fringes of society to feed on the unwary, the week willed. Parasites that cull the herd to make it stronger, except that it doesn’t get stronger, it doesn’t get anything. the crippling mass of humanity is such a broken down mob of soulless drones and automatons that nothing changes anymore, nothing happens. They flicker on through life until they die and their bodies are reused by the system. There is nothing. If there ever was, it’s dead now. Dead, long dead. Only the dust and the desert remain. Only the dying and the oil. I have made fire. Now I will watch it all burn.

They call the Rising Sun

Well, demon blood of the orient. I am come again. I am born anew. I am going to have to get another drink. Bourbon. Neat, goddamn it, neat, you filthy fucking swine. But the lies… the lies? The lies. THE LIES!!! Oh, fuck. They’re all gonna laugh at you. Yeah, well, we’re still all gonna die. So what the fuck, man? what the fuck. “WHO’S THE BITCH NOW, YOU DIRTY SHEEP FUCKER?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?” “Deeper and deeper; way down.”

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

My pen keeps clicking; I don’t know where it’s heading. I don’t know what her name is anymore. Just that she was a lie from the beginning. More so that I was. As if that was possible. I still don’t believe it. And how could I? My entire public persona is constructed, a fabrication, a façade, what the French call a certain ‘go fuck yourself.’ How could she be worse? How was it possible that I finally found the one that was better than me and then got drunk and forgot about it all? Was I just drunk? Was that it? Or was there more? Again? Again>? agin?? Agoinds?

And, god, I know, I’m one.

3 comments:

Billy Prophet said...

... is don't worry, the lie still believes in you...

Billy Prophet said...

?????????????????????/////////////////////////////////////////////////// it never gets weird enough. sorry.

Billy Prophet said...

you wanna call the cops?
you think you'll be alive by the time they make it here?