steep

life's such a steep piece of work!  it doesnt matter where i stand, whether s time to dive or rocket. calm spells whizz by or they get stopped in their stride. brain heart and pudenda all in the fucking scheme as well.

what's with me today? mr swifty. cant focus?

...that brilliant idea i had in the morning. it sounds shit now. the stuff about mirrors. what was it again? yes. I was just thinking how great it would be for a person to look in a mirror and see exactly the same thing someone else has seen. e x a c t l y what they ve seen. not what their eyes were seeing. not even what their neurons were transmiting to their optic nerves and the feelings they got from that.  but in mirrors, we just don't really see ourselves. we see an invariably disappointing version of ourselves.

and then there s the writing on the bus stop bench: 'lo que tu y yo podriamos haber sido de no haber sido tu y yo'. can't seem to get it out of my head. the past is such a crafty beggar. it just find ways to sneak back into the present and soil your future. try to dodge the fucker. he s still there like an immortal zombie. dragging its rotting body towards you.

and then last week's lines

decades down my road you ll still be a soul sniper
fly east till the music inside you bleeds
the core of your being paints a perfect still life
pay my pointless ramson in prayer cash
there s no redemption for the likes of you, though
no believer would resist the purity of your sad eyes
breakdown carol, stench of my stagnating blood flow
where are you going now?


december. devil's tools. sublime music for my weary eyes. retinas bleed joyous human kerosene. fly till your wings flap message-pregnant air. sin painted all over your sex scented smile.  flawless crust soiled core. i can smell it in you: perfection ready to burst, corrupt beauty. fruitless womb of yours. tumorous cunt. your wormy flesh speaks modern babilonian. scarred star. moonless soul. my true love. pack of lies from some alien predator. get frisky and don t miss her caved-in chest. she ll moan and gasp for dirty air, the bitch.