Sunday, May 19, 2013
Tell me a tale so that I can rip my heart out raw and sit dumbfounded in shock afterwards not even knowing what hit me. "Why don't you just go run into a wall dummy?" Death and the happiest moments always seem to mingle so well. I can't help that I want to be launched like a rocket, that is just how my mind is configured. Go figure. The happy American sits in his house of rot and smiles in front of the television peaceful as a plum. All of 'they,' their repellent, inscrutable essences leak out from under the rug, dark mildewy corners, and soiled bed sheets wafting into the open air as the winter days of isolation end. A pestilential fog of good tidings and flowery air mixed with industrialized good will to all. Hold on a moment, allow me to puke... Flowers are violent and delicate... Beautiful the birds chirping sounds now? Woe that the winter has ended that the putrid foulness of my dear fellow man can air out in the temperate spring thaw like a mutilated corpse decaying. Perhaps my savage, bitter, spiteful feelings are deceiving and playing tricks. Perhaps it is me that I am sensing, lost in my own labyrinthine thoughts. But I know another better side of things. The reek of man sucking on exhaust pipes and drinking anti-freeze for breakfast all in the name of recycling is fresh and going fast. My spring time was aborted with chemicals. Injections. I am a threat to mankind in my berserk ways and whiles. I could hear the civilization murmur then. It wanted to poison my reason for existing all for my own good. And this is what I am left with. This foul gunk of a spring devoid of animating spirits. This is what the common person must feel during this season. This pastel laden, cute bunny hop wonderland of respite from the unbearable unthinkable cold which I relished like a true Swede. Let me dance with suicide and darken blemish rosy cheeked youth. Let me bend to nonfunctional obscene motorcycle hog tail pipes and gun down adrenaline junkies. Forgive me vernal hours for this ugly face I am making.