Pulling the plug…
We all cant be so medictated .
Eating grapes & drinking coffee because my third attempt at sleeping in
on my first day off since god knows when, I’m failing. Thanks to that
spell cast into the dark waters of our lake that you
fucked-up again, with polluted ideals.
I’m she-bear, I dwell in crystal-lined caves, the son reflects off of them like starslight is all that I need. In sanity. These words. Are me.
Casper.
Mr. & Mrs. Getty live up on that hill in a mansion, they have so many lovely things, they share them with millions for free, It’s all rather lovely, I visit them every so often, but every time I try
to touch something I’m tazered,
I can’t even take a picture
outside of the Kodak picture perfect boxes they have placed every 50-75 feet. And if I want something beautiful to bring home with me,
it will be at some great price.
timmelideo: here are 2 pics i rediscovered from old shots. been going through my old negatives to see what i may have overlooked. yes, negatives, i shoot film. imagine that.
The Ancient dwells within
his elliptical orbit
places him at a 3:1 -ratio of invisibility to visibility
he wears music as fashion
his threads are always trying to come undone
The Rookie is a starter
heavy hitter
free flow caller his rate 2:0 -ratios of heads to tales
one coin will buy the hour
the hours are fun houses so good he’ll drive you
mad
The Stranger is ultrasonic
his methods superficially platonic
antipathetic to her pleas 10:1 -ratio of castes to byte
one byte levels playing fields
his verbs function duplicitously so well splinther in to
Our father lives to own her
sun and praying mantis rays
her lightforce shy’s away 1:1 -ratio of rights to wrong
one right will always prove one wrong
until the infinite split of fractal manifestations
Prove Microcosmic Orbits
ManipulateHeReality
Right her words writ for (m)any
writ for others
writ for you
Let US build a bridge Man
Hattanstrings itself to Queens
Long Is
Land
Upon her “fresh green breast”
of tHis New World
Order:
tHis arm was meant
To hold F. Scott
You make me choke
On your smoke
Stacks of this
In the visibly
Self
Destructive imagination
Dr. T. J. Eckleburg’s giant Iris’
Nothing compared to you
and I
Plant flowers for generations
Of New Yorker’s to come.
