Dynapolis Degradation.
Yesterday I went to a woman's book club, discussed major topics concerning In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson.
Drank some wine and discussed opera performances that we've all seen.
Seemed like an educated group, mostly suburbanites with sheltered convenient lives.
Not exactly my perfect fit. But hey- if it'll keep me reading novels, then I can't see any big fat negatives.
Our next book is going to be The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro.
But I'm going to see if I can read a completely different fiction novel before that due date.
Purple Dragon, her family, and I had a cathartic outdoor pyre burning.
Smoked some cigars, psychedelia, made some jokes about THE mars, and stupid therapists.
I also have some old photographs that I took with my cellphone.
Decided to attach some poetry on those and let them loose.
Oh Sheila
She is never lost.
She is never found.
Instead, we look for her in the hallway of a library looking for periodicals from a month ago.
She's at the club, flirting with the guys who hate being ignored.
Traces of her at the grocery store looking for a new hair brush that screams fashion model.
We grow to love her, despite her hate for humanity.
Piffy, systematic, mother I'd like to forgo.
Divide
Calling your name has become a lesser energy in my mind's eye.
Abandoned my hopes for a more subtle cut with the knife.
They say we are one of the same, which makes me wonder.
If you have an equal abnegation for life.
You don't believe in me, and I do not believe in you.
A goddess they label you, floating above our concrete metal granite imprisonment.
I purge your existence, besides the amount of hatred you fuel inside me.
My middle finger shall address any open arms you wish to offer.
Visions Emetic
Lives upon lives upon lives away.
Eyes burning with erratic imagery.
Muzzle numb and full of nearby smoke.
We watch their names burn, their memories soar.
Pulses of naturalistic blood, instincts kick in.
Grass between my feet begins to tear.
Beside me is sickle drawn Śmierć dwelling in the future.
I ask him if tongue flames resemble damnation.
He tells me no, since flames can easily be put out.
Just got my laptop back from the repair shop!
She's looking better than ever before.
Drank some wine and discussed opera performances that we've all seen.
Seemed like an educated group, mostly suburbanites with sheltered convenient lives.
Not exactly my perfect fit. But hey- if it'll keep me reading novels, then I can't see any big fat negatives.
Our next book is going to be The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro.
But I'm going to see if I can read a completely different fiction novel before that due date.
Purple Dragon, her family, and I had a cathartic outdoor pyre burning.
Smoked some cigars, psychedelia, made some jokes about THE mars, and stupid therapists.
I also have some old photographs that I took with my cellphone.
Decided to attach some poetry on those and let them loose.
Oh Sheila
She is never lost.
She is never found.
Instead, we look for her in the hallway of a library looking for periodicals from a month ago.
She's at the club, flirting with the guys who hate being ignored.
Traces of her at the grocery store looking for a new hair brush that screams fashion model.
We grow to love her, despite her hate for humanity.
Piffy, systematic, mother I'd like to forgo.
Divide
Calling your name has become a lesser energy in my mind's eye.
Abandoned my hopes for a more subtle cut with the knife.
They say we are one of the same, which makes me wonder.
If you have an equal abnegation for life.
You don't believe in me, and I do not believe in you.
A goddess they label you, floating above our concrete metal granite imprisonment.
I purge your existence, besides the amount of hatred you fuel inside me.
My middle finger shall address any open arms you wish to offer.
Visions Emetic
Lives upon lives upon lives away.
Eyes burning with erratic imagery.
Muzzle numb and full of nearby smoke.
We watch their names burn, their memories soar.
Pulses of naturalistic blood, instincts kick in.
Grass between my feet begins to tear.
Beside me is sickle drawn Śmierć dwelling in the future.
I ask him if tongue flames resemble damnation.
He tells me no, since flames can easily be put out.
Just got my laptop back from the repair shop!
She's looking better than ever before.