off-the-wallflower child

"I no longer know if I wish to drown myself in love, vodka or the sea."

"Hush," the lush green trees said to the rushing breeze... "In these graves gracefully lay the gratefully dead..."...

Mother, Her piercing blue eyes set in fierce white skies, the sun in them, looks down at  her . She cries at her despair, cold fresh rain against her warm flesh. she looks up to the sky, starts to cry too. Have Her tears come to wash away her fears? As  she breathes in the rain to drown this pain inside of her . Please, let them.

שָׁלוֹם

When I die, bury me in the valley, Yes, chant a mantra for my body as it lays, And then may they come from the sky, Their black feathers like smoke over the clouds, Vultures, ravens and crows for my cold, cold flesh, Such poetry, this gory glory... And weep at the beauty of it all I shall, I swear! Because now, in spirit I can fly, To my grave in the sky, Such poetry, this holy glory, Bless my soul, Birth as a bird, Oh the serendipity of this serenity, So divine it would be, as it should, My afterlife.

Life is a like grandiose Norse prose... Hence, we are Vikings! And gods.

My thoughts! Like an epileptic fit of hiccups. Hiccups hurt. Are also, spontaneous... And simultaneous... Simultaneous to my breath... This foul trick! I am alive. I, now, remember this. To be! Or not to be! Suicide, a do or die affair! To do! Or not to do! So... To do? Or to die? That is the question. To be, bye.

Fuck, what do you mean "what"? The elephant in the room. The son of a bitch. What? The elephant is also a dog? LOL. What? As I consciously try to decipher what my unconscious unconsciously thinks... Jesus, one too many consciousnesses... What was my point? I forget. How my mind wanders... You know, dirty and barefoot, to nowhere.

Masked in leather, society cuts us off... Massacres us. A ritualistic dismemberment of its members... An orgiastic gore! I lost my head and you lost your heart... And they lost their souls and we lost our spirits... The grand death of us. But who shall give testimony to this ceremony? For alas, now, we are dead. And worse, on our writhed corpses is the realisation... After death, in our eyes and on our mouths of this, they say, felony... And of: "Now what?"