(no subject)
Click to viewI shot the world yesterday, just to see my feet bleed in psychotropic technicolor sunsets.
Gerald said there was a zebra eating a trash can, as the horizon emptied out into the abyss.
Mutes scream sonnets, sang in surrender, of sigils just for you, of which only the deaf hear.
Saw a wandering old leather faced man, with a pale face you wore once. He was dancing down a hallway of mirrors, tethered to a colostomy bag, filled with memories and urine.
Staring out into the water, on this dirty mattress, its fetid stench fills this convalescence home, to these stained hallways we rome, unconscious in dreary catacombs.
Time played out on a broken watch, like characters in film strips, doomed to repeat their motions for an eternity. Did I tell you, tell you, I shot the world yesterday?