Sunday, October 15, 2017

Spider Tattoo

Joe nears and thinks: “I'm glad......” It just came out! Not just the idea, but the meat. Even though to think freely about words, it'd be to hit the Vaseline.... “Why do you not do that thing with your eyes again?” Denial in its infancy burns bright, must be tired. She withdraws. “I do not know!” as all things Moebius have the wet brainwaves in strips – automatically shut in mouths, silver turning darts from eyes, everything dropped in bulk from the heights of mere empathy “Oh.... You want...]” “a friend (her) with the same shampoo and body SOAP, unraveling, nostalgic for change coming from dreams inescapably, brave and might win....” From a rare burning world within grey water gilded digital, leather sliding from walls like scales from the eyes, fake news algorithm through schizophrenic chicken imitation nardwuar with unbearable beauty roast centrify spider tattoo back from pectoral to golden side of heavy potato flushed peak-first down the USB to dabble in illusion, condemned yet ascending, only kindle volume 2 such as one hot site of dinner party for instability to just bathe in, due a ring around hotdog's exhalation from forest (“heh heh”) ritual full of modernism, Joe self-crusts towards redemption.... Peter Parker by daylight, the faintness of a job interview haunts in and around suspension of blue lurking respiratory man's jacket suffering inner giant red cartoon chemical kombucha atop city skyscrapers. Believe in the overlaid, sex predator tendril emptying unnoticeable into islands far below, its bug architecture mazed whisper's length of cold in frayed lake down on concrete bed; rooting horrifying perspective now includes and annihilates wheelchair, Hobbesian knowledge of a tool, silently essence, at the third stage through glasses that hold the hair, defending itself in nightmare house folded in the middle. Though what did identify Dolphinman in the video lab, with thought of movement graven in between, cauldron full of orange frieze for fears.

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