Saturday, 24 October 2009

Funny World #7

Yesterday I watched her exhale the fabric of a universe out from her wooden conscience, like the nose of a chinese dragon.

Her thoughts were in a vernacular that dissolved on my lips.

She kissed the air passing through my head, making the blood race to my fingers.

You'll find out, she spoke.

We should stay here long enough to leave our bodies here, I imagined, and watch these nagoy hesitations submerge.

Remember when I tried to convince you that I invented the word 'feck'? Well... you weren't as gullible as I had first imagined. Please, stay away from my organs until you let me know.

Do you ever stop to wonder why you put both feet on the ground? Feel the dirt in between your toes.

Do you like to place three of your fingertips over each eyelid? Well, I suggest that you find out, and give it a try.

Are you just fucking with my head, because I don't like my head being fucked. All I seem to do is wait for this imagined movement that never seems to happen, laminated in flowers.

Remember those purple products you gave me in the garden? They were delicious, all toothy like decorated animal ghosts.

Where do you live now my old friend, moved back and disappearing forever? I asked. By which time you were partly broke and useless.

You are a series of inept eyes, so I am going to buy my own complications.

It's been really nice over these months that I couldn't afford, with all these fawning responsibilities that are becoming older than me.

I’ve removed myself to think about your Indian ink, and the time you never left your coat on my bed.

Maybe I should drink it, let it stick to my gums.

Did you put the lovely into my complete person?

I had a good view of this great thing that I didn't see coming.

This beautiful machine now lays dormant at the side of the road, gathering rust, outlined with a street light, painted by the rain.
The fucking pathetic rain made it all seem so Hollywood - A Hollywood film with a stupid French ending. She did indeed tie my heart strings to her hometown.
It came keen as the last train to Funny World pulled away. A dirty rotten mess and all I could think about was the girl in the red rose dress. That bloody red rose dress! One last denial against the final throws of summer. Sometimes I wonder if it's the cut of her jib or the cut of that dress that determines the level of our togetherness.
Once written, twice smitten. Out of her purse, up her nose, out of her mouth, into the bowl. A beautiful machine.

Failing in a dream in the guts of the beautiful machine.
Bleeding the goat in the guts of the beautiful machine.
Kicking my shins in the guts of the beautiful machine.
Staring at the screen in the guts of the beautiful machine.

For the love of god will you please take this wooden lion out of my wooden grasp and put it next to your wooden heart then you can give me the same wooden look you gave me three wooden weeks ago. Hang some good shame around your neck and spoon out my boiled liver, it’s had enough. Tempted two dead birds ago.
I think they want me to leave.
Pull off your nose and look inside at all the messages I left.
I keep opening this story of markings and smelly memories written on my appendages. All I'm doing is fucking up my tendrils.

Look at me girl, look at what I'm thinking. Nose ring. I imagine taking photos of this indifferent night and lost visions of something special.

Please draw around us both in pen so we last a little longer.

It needs beefing up so do what you want with it. I think we are most probably without a doubt almost definatly genius', I think.

Magic optical nerve, show me something that I don't anticipate, show me now before I go insane.

I'd better just keep writing and stay quiet, or at some point just go home.

Meet me after this whirlwind, all smothered in verbs. I warned you, prepare to be utterly something when I decide at some point what exactly it is that's going on here.

We are particles my dear, and I don't know when I should climb out of the pillow case and slide into the nearest distance.

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