The speed of light, the thick of dust, and heaven always on the run. This day, the next, the taste of blood and cinders. The folly of the words, the swindle of the soul, belly sick and heart broke and the on and on and on. The blank page drizzled with pigment and sickness, the thought experiment painting the walls. Touch fades, sight blurs, everything louder and louder and getting harder to hear. Hard to here, hard to there, the dismal automaton sputters and drones. The same ignored prayer every day with no end in sight.
A lopsided skull, a mouthful of mismatched teeth, body broken and riddled with disfunction. Knots in the lungs and the breathing is missing pieces. The sharp and dull sharing passage in a rundown brain, thinking in bullets and nooses and the mass of a train in motion. This flea bit carcass, this rotten husk, and the lashings of mockery and contempt in every last frame. Words sloshing around in buckets, words staining the floor, spilling endless lies. The nothing to see here more and more.
There’s no one to talk to. There’s nothing to say. Another entry in the litany of dissolution, the dissembling of the everyday, the distortions of the extraordinary. The washed out stars and the muttering, murdered earth. The moonlit ocean dotted with the ascension of jellies and the glittering of message bottles bobbing aimlessly away. Garbage people building a trash heap world as our time runs out. Awful writers tapping away at more ugly, useless words. It is written, it is written.
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