rarefied air

FLOATING DUST SETTLED ON THE WAYSIDE LAUNCH,READY TO EMBARK ON A VOYAGE BEGONE,MOULDED FROM A CLASSIC NOVELLA OF THE RUE DE LABOURDANNA, DRINKING FROM A PORT INTO AMAZON WITH BOHEMIAN ROUGE APPLIED ON A TEMPLATE SPIRITED WITH DUSKY COMPLEXI0ON OF THE TAVERN...I PROCEED...

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Go Torture Ur Souls

The severed head lies on the floor....blood rushes past the many feet...get a mop...or better still, a tumbler....
Blood from the severed head colors the feet...get a mop...or a tumbler...
The head is severed, the blood gushes out onto the floor....somebody get a mop, or a tumbler, I can do with a drink...
A single blood stream runs through the floor, making the pattern of the stream...somebody get a tumbler, I could do with a drink...
The blood stains refuse to remain, get a picture for me to frame....
Lust is writhing on the table in front of my eyes....somebody give it what it needs....blinded by the light coming from the altar, it struggles to find its feet......darkness is bliss not ignorance as they believeā€¦for those who fear the blanket of darkness, they walk towards the light....