Friday, 6 November 2009

Funny World #11

Three dark triangles throw mescaline to a god no one ever sees. Have you fucking abdicated, when I need you the most, you prick! Zarathustra, I think I love you, dying on those steps near that bench.
Lazaretto - A pest house for the diseased.
A kick in the pegs and these tiffy glances like venom will give me fizzy legs. It's time I took Seigmund Freud out of my suitcase.
And now this abjection arrives like three o'clock. I'm a trilogy; myself, the way you see me, and the way I was: The Symbolic Order, The Imaginary Order, and The Real. Unzip these clouds so all the invisible prophets fall from their hiding places.
Smell the soil next to their shadows to prove that you still exist. It's all a bunch of 'smemories' (smells and memories linked to the olfactory bulb and the hippocampus).
Lazarus, keep digging.
Female card players, the real fucker is, I had this all before, a million yesterdays ago. Just trust me not to jar it this time. I've broken all the jars. Hang your bags on my teeth and have gone. This Absinthe will get the better of me. Oh, epitome, pity me, please, sniff yourself and memorise. These motions are becoming too easy but it's the sun that's making things difficult.
I want it, but I don't want it. I want it different, I want it. I just don't want it now because I won't like it. I just don't know what to do green fairy in a bottle. Is this it?
Well, there we go Jessica Rabbit, you are no Lola Bunny, you're just a whore with a language barrier that's dribbling on your knees. This bag is not mine.
Winnie the Pooh, what's your favourite shade of pale blue? Is it sweet enough, sweet potato mash? How warm is your pocket? I want to sit in it. A pocket full of dreams, toastie and supervising all the sound I've ever seen and missed. Burry the smell in a flowery lace, and give me the strength to penetrate the ceiling. I'll riddle your scart lead face and patent that top lip.
"Say something!"
So I said the most absurd thing imaginable. "There are hippos in your cutlery draw telling jokes that only I find funny."
He held his glass mug underneath his chin to catch his tears. "I've been hurt by an upside down pin!"
The rest fell silently into a blur.
"I love you, but you're rubbish"
We walked passed with bottles in our hands and said fair well.
I enjoy synchronicity.
I don't know if this is true, but if it is, I would disagree anyway, because this is just vague enough to be brilliant.

No comments:

Post a Comment