Sonntag, 6. Januar 2013


There's no single moment
No circular or stringent time
surrender it
hand it in over there to the badger gang They deal with those problems, learned to think in those terms, when asked to hand back the treasures, goldcoins, neurocortex, reply by the sole commitment “Nah” and over, rip the white arms off the wall, that's how guide books smileys in yellow
we eat, every tuesday, at a dark, hinted hall, plates filled richly by all sweets, all labour grilled cheese
sirens and the window, yet love, yet tragic, yesyes, fries all around my wall, making my tiny potato universe, willbury, or what's his name?
Focus is hard, all eyes settled on, the white FUCK windows and their perfect poison, their conneticut attitude, calv hooves, whiny sunday old day sky green garden mean warden all those parties silent revenue
gross magic perfomed live in a hangar I can feel it feel the guests somewhere in this town
hey, aren't you off the streets? Once and for all, oh, how conspiring, can you break it to my parents, they got all the papers for such a case
My music stops the moment it gets to loud, becomes a mad dogs barking eating me my guilt yeah though skaterboy and his tattoed toughtarms, I got a pair of coffeetablets in my secret stash barbie doll and when times are bad all the tiny complex molecules will wander down to Gehenna and do the job, strong as the lion king when I look into glasswalls I need around me all the time
enough being foreign, out, nonimaginable eternal break, oha, badam and Decartes looks up from the grave, still capable of monitoring thought. I could turn the lights off, yes, now narrative, introspect we did it in school, how it differs and aligns, how it conquers, undermines and not once on why it's holy, yeah, not once, no graves, no clarity yet not once even a general idea on why every monday those broken empty limbed pantygum wide eyes make their way into our privateopen life, your, my, perception, end again, your, my, perception, can you hear the music? Not because it connects in wobbling Spring upper side of the box colours all because it settles calls the voices calms the voices is the voice in a way only the death of several thousand times Ikarus ever explains with satisfaction,
helpsignals on the road, because these damn rabbits still challenge all my cars, wanna see them? My bed's in the garage, hall larger than all your basement parties, doing it again, perception does it get boring?
Well all the cars and no sex and no holy penis in delight and halo no vaginal lips trembling with the truth behind all importance, I'm killing the flies give the world a proper new meaning, slogan on a redbricked whirl that my legs aren't upright enough for, was too long, all the line
me and my language and how we discuss, when looking in the octopus of movement, slowly and why can't your music not feel how it's supossed to all the cheap german coined pinned filled church a bit and how nice he ate his breakfast, and how nice they open Cookies with a housey feeling with a couchread world bring in the nightshift, FUCK, because it's there in the drone ones, in the static needed to put down, around the legacy few rooms important all four walls field like the little red riding hoodlayer nursing trough a first “no help”, immobile and undecided aware, people differ, 4 weeks, the first molotov crusade way down the fueling ropes
Hope you had a nice holiday in the estate
Hope you had no big bears in your breakfast
all the hair upsets the stomach, all mine, all annoying and icebitemarks, raiding forest ground down to Health
Helen round a table with her petpsychos, next scene, forward quick to bed, Helen and the roaring 60's and the eternal, no no, no more eternal
Morning rain with voodoo wisdom, waking up, unseen eyes reaching to the ceiling underneath the actual sky, skulls and spells, black clothes not required.
The new magician in order to be magic, no more fancy suit, no more stars around the bluecottonhipline and the wellconserved breast hair, brown towers, cloaked virgins wind as an archangels metaphorical breath, he'd never do that with them layers on the systems.
Backlights in the carfloor, secondary groundbreaking pioneer toasts down to the cantine, white hair mats loving the potatoes into the boiling fat.

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