Tuesday, February 15, 2011

STORY OF A MURDERER – WRITTEN BADLY



I want this sofa in my life
it might just be the holy word
Underneath the bus’s new grandma ceiling
vomitous and dull like sentimental ring
I forgot,
how DO you feel under the bus’s new ceiling?

I saw the holy word’s DNA sequence 
it looked back
it didn’t look at me the way it usually does

I saw:
Either
Puke or a heat trail
That even deaf people might occasionally have bouts of verbal diarrhea

And:
There’s no telling where the murderer might go
By bus

Ocean views in sunglasses are so intoxicating to some
Evil things, in this context, that are almost too reminiscent of posing nude for a vegetable

I hope you’ve turned to the channel, which seems to be a close-up of a bushy eyebrow and that’s simply bad editing but is also  
Where someone comes in and murders me
body language insinuating an intense unstoppable need for a shower
but the occupant of this badass vessel is sponge-chafed albinomously

Ah, don’t think I’d like to be able to see through my eyelids
For these events have all been seen through the umlauts on the letter O:
In case you missed it, I moved the old beat up, offensive and moldy piece of shit acoustic guitar out of the corner – placed it beside the refrigerator

So now you see:
there’s no telling what else I might do  

Either
DNA sequence of suitcase is holy word or
Evil things are Dutch underpants

And:
In case you missed it, there was a shadow in the motel fan, which I saw while writing very carefully in the murderer’s itinerary
‘It’s hubris to believe
the sign language of the deaf passenger next to you
might not flicker and undulate through your eyelids’

No comments:

Post a Comment

Search This Blog

There was an error in this gadget

Followers