the undoing of the doing in the face of a brain so intoxicated by the infection of reality eating the earthy sentiments that may have made love "love." ======== nothing moves organically in the direction of "rational." murder sighs, murder signs; in only a way that the murder not be a tangible manifestation of the physical act; murder in a soul-sense. you will not be a highway-island, only an isolated planar reflection of intersections of dead and dying. dying, much slower, moving subtly in these strange, haunting, half-remembered dreams of recurring places in the time of (un)realtime.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Post a Comment