les lignes de fuit
You lad live and learn. There is a lot
flying by. The moment, the lines of flight spreading outwards from
supernova to supernova. One could be sent blind with so much
stargazing. To see the stars we have to cut the lights. It is a black
night out there tonight. She was beaten to death with a pyramid
formed geode. The motherfucker looked like she had been hit by an
asteroid. The impact was comic right to the moondane. You little
ripper give me a kiss and show me how much you love me and run down
to the nearest friterie hol ab die grosse mit sauce what sort any
sort the good sort the good looking sort a hot sort. Something that
will burn me a new arsehole. I never claimed to be anything else but
an arsehole. In with the glycerol to make further conversation
fluent. Under the muff a small mechincal electrical mind at work
under the guidance of the alcoholic spirits and whatever we can shove
in the lungs and veins. An ear induced coma. Existence is rhythm
based. No rhythm, no existence. The first breath is a beat on the
verge of a bodily collapse.