Someday they will see my dreams like a Picasso collage–splashed with glue—confess the shiny hues made it true… they will say, this is not the way to speak, machines will laugh and this is how her dots crossed made her think like a freak. Roller coaster poster-child for bipolar rolling holy rollers…they will say it was all my creation, blame the nations downfall on you.
I cant seem to hold on… Maybe Icarus didn’t burn his wings in the sun melting like wax perhaps Icarus flew into a black hole like the soul of the sum of the whole. Stop repeating facts because there is no proof, its just that. And the cat, which is fat, and he has a bat, and bats are bad and Marilyn Manson and I cant stop beeeeeeeeeeeep
Why do all my words amount to a brief ellipse of time. I am happier alone, making love to my own only reflection–as the faces turn into reproductions of my minds elation.
Why is this freakin’ madness, insane, lunacy, not a divine glimpse of a lost timeline?
Money for a wasteland for a plastic paper factory…
Compliance. Bipolar mediocrity. Shill out the bills, find a light at the end of the bluedream scheme as the pyramids sink in an ocean of bull sh-t because this paper is worthless, toss out the trash, hand over the cash, crash into the moon and explode with a last laugh.
I had that. Now I dont want it I want it to be back in black, painted like a saint with a heartless attack. I want to immortalize my own visions in a laser sharp monograph on the animistic compound of a neurotic impulse to analyze overlay and lie when after I die I didn’t die.
Why? Because I am a damage magnet. Forget it, forget what it meant. this is a trial, and error, I care i care I care I care I cant cry I forced a middle finger to the moon for some dark ominous reason I threw the pill bottles at the sky, and I said—HEY and IM RIGHT.
I hope you hug the demons close, I mean, glitter fairies in disguise.