Notebook 043

26th October 2007


Train induced pepple-dashery bull shunted and pulled from the umbilical inside of you. How wet and shiny it feels my dear as the life slips between your cracked nails. "I hope you washed behind your ears" his mother said "for they shall split and burst upon seams of shattered bronze if not. Then where would the golden king boy be that I have spent so long raising and nuturing and making scaletrix with?" Brazen. Like a rugpile of shattered threads. No mind matter worn from the udders of elders becase click clicking on the keys of this won't blacken it. Sing a song for sluts and writing cause it'll consume you so wholely you'll feel fresh in the morning. Stepping on blankets of crushed doormat, I hope you never save another bird from its nest again. Taking a leaf out of who's book I heard her cheeks flux, raged at maddened consanants.

And to think I ever even tried.