Thursday, June 5, 2008

Is Why, For Now



An afternoon that might go on forever — but for the impaling shardhints of a night to spit into morning.


I am shocked into life by the sunlight, cast in the day’s silent radiance like a walking monument — a vacuum of flesh transfixed into pulse by burst of instant life to instant death in the millisecond Phosphor flash.

Nothing stops.

Nothing, I can touch.

So I walk and burn as a phantom, slapped hard about the ephemera by the past’s hapless hoists and the future’s indecypherable dig crocks, wishing to be thrashed to life.

This day, this time is all, and it will not be held, nor saved nor spoken.

I will bear it into the blackest silence, believe — always — that I may greet each morning’s kiss unshrouded (and preferably bulging with spectacularly harmless hi-tech weaponry, the new day's hues to suck and enzap.)

I love afternoons like these.

Love them till I am tempted to dance and scream beyond the descriptive bounds of Total Bloody Arsehole.

Away, you Let It All Hang Out Naked Painted Bongo Twaddle Chanting Collective Unconscious Lost.

Away with you, you fuckwits!

5 comments:

Kiersten said...

I understand you very little, but like you very much, so I guess it all evens out in the end.

Right?

Whirlochre said...

Truly, you are a rolling pin in a universe of potential Margeritas.

Kiersten said...

Do you have a random word generator? Otherwise, I'm just not sure how you do it.

You are the esoteric lobster to the tambourines down the street.

Whirlochre said...

At last! A slogan for a T-shirt I'd be glad to wear.

Robin S. said...

You are the esoteric lobster to the tambourines down the street.

Woo hoo! I love it.

Whirl. I wanna know how your mind works. Your expressions are powerful.