Paper thin Perforation

I received a Pepsi pen at work today.

It was not a very good pen.

I am still in utter bemusement as to how Pepsi, an international multi-conglomerate giant, can possess the ability to concoct a liquid candy but cannot for the life of them create a written utensil that dispenses peoples basic blood soaked dreams!

Pepsi, your sugared stench boils my blood so hot, that my eyes have ceased to focus on these written needs. I want to lash out at you with my staggered dagger of prose. I want to burn and maim your syllabled court! Your quill is unkempt Pepsi, your marker is nibbed. I want you to know, that your inadequacies share no secrets with me. So misfired fountains, leave me be.

P.S: The Bic Cristal was the SHIT.

Hallucinations.

I once heard a story. A story of these ticky tacky creatures who like to plod on around inside people’s head. They often like to dance a prance that spark cobblestones underneath their cotton hooves. Free to fly they move with frantic beats to the cadenced sound erupting in an infinity near to this day.

Come Dancer, come Vixen their thousand hushed whispers began to cry. For there, beyond the rise of draped dreams sits a man hollow in the empty shell of his chest. There he waits for the clocks to strike their boom while unstirred beams discharge him from his creatures final dreams.

Oh Darlin I'll kiss your eyes and lay down on your rug. Just give me some Candy before I go...

Songs sung on a empty chest.

Here is to you Spindler. You will be missed.

Its with an aching heart that I begin this long overdue ramble about my beloved, Spindler. I have written about her in previous posts and as unfortunate as it sounds this shall be my last farewell to a beast that not only served as my penis extension on the road but also a release mechanism for all of my emotions for the past couple of years. Will another come?

My Spindler, how I will always love you. My friend, my lover, my one. A perfect fit you and I were, a combination that had rarely graced the pavement stone. A naive young man saddled on his perfect black dragon. Always sitting still while the world whipped by at perfect speeds.

She rode with such ferocity that I often wondered how such a beautiful machine had the audacity to grace my life. So many fine tuned beats throbbed through her metallic heart that with every dip and turn my Hallelujah's screamed stronger within the chamber of our dualistic synchronicities. Every time we flashed past, I saw tongues dribbling spit at our machiavellian madness. Nothing was lost and nothing gained while our gleaming black bodies becoming figments of others thoughts long lost.

I will miss you. Forever.

And so a gear clicked, a wrist turned and a man wept.

Goodbye.

Today.

We are the light that travels into space.

Bob Villa - The Trials.

I want an art tablet.

So I can draw lots of pretty pictures.
Sketches and paintings, oh what a nice thing that would be.