Long-winded Bullshit

A Chapter by Leap

Excerpt From A Hobo's Religious Experience

Quaaludes and Martinis are God's favorite pass time. God will always be the man standing directly to your left. He's the one who has the power. The one who makes the money. That is until you kill him. After that, God is nothing but a dead man without any clothes.

selpmet

Standing in her underwear with her hands high above her head and the lipstick showing up all over the place. So still she could have been a photograph. One week later she started to fade into colorless anti-shapes. I realized what she was. Now I want her standing in front of me. No use praying

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Titan

"I'll let her come see me," says the heathen in the air. I run, I run from bold black horses. It's hard to scratch out blood from a Spartan's tangled hair. They rode. They rode on bald-back horses. Open them wide. They'll gather damp warm ash and have a picnic kin affair. They're finalized but able to spit on their despair. They'll loosen Titans' chains letting wet walls melt slow up stairs. One street alone is home enough four children and three bears. Soon they'll know who's come to play. Tall smoking stacks collide and the sound they make-it blares. Our trouble comes as easily to everyone who's scared. Find shrapnel in their tongues. Big scissors in their care. What's summoned has not fallen yet. Not that I'm aware. What's summoned has not fallen yet but I'm not one to stare. now they know who's come to play.

Monger

You got in me - the battle. Who started the battle? You grapple with me for power. But it's out of the question? You've over stayed your welcome. Like bitter clockwork? Say man, You'd better flee tomorrow and leave me your cannons 'cause you can't rattle me. I should let you kill your own and you should let me take mine and go. It ripples down me - your whiskey. Such a gory romance? This saga has mamed our last names. Our nomenclature? You're brittle - try to break me if you think you can. I'm of ample value? The beatings can be brief, I promise, just ask your generals who now hang in my castle. You won't conquer me. The only reason we echo the other. It's from this field we share is so empty and filthy like your ladies eating their new-born babies. Guilty like all people.

Out of Ink

God is not a man of character. Not enough of him to stay awake. Allow me to be colder. Keep my distance. I promised you I'd stay away. He can't be everywhere. Not at once. He told me. He says he's only the face of Gods among men. Allow me to leave you scribbling on the front of tombstones. Use your blood. I'd rather not let you f**k up my pen. Drenching the city. Cause and effect. Your dancing soaked up all the people. Made us all catch the flu. It helped me love the rain. The rain we're in.

You Will Never Know What To Do With Me

You'll try. We'll all try. Nonsense. Try nonsense. This is nonsense. I've even written this down. Nonsense. There in lies the meaning of having no meaning. Avoiding no purpose. It's begun to get tiring. All the pretending. No sociopath here. I promise. Can you promise me something? The moment I let you in on a secret - the secret of taking an emotion seriously - will you force it in one definite direction for me. Stop letting these things off their tracks. Don't forget where they belong. Don't forget they belong to me. You have no right and I love being wrong. Scatter them around. That's what you've wanted to do from the start. If they stay scattered you can make me pick up the pieces by myself. You won't have to help because I never make you and you are smart enough to see this and take advantage. It's what you do best. Please use it against me - just give me credit. We can share it. When I come home in the time between two days without every piece clutched in hand you have my regretful permission to scold me by doing what I want you to do deep down inside this hole I call a soul. I've gone along before just fine without all my pieces and they eventually find me on their way back. Okay, maybe not fine but close enough. Close enough to still string stirred up bullshit like this together and have people say they can appreciate it. I'm trying not to attack anyone but you. But...It's lost it's funnest quality...my own lack of apathy. I don't have much interest anymore. Too much preparation involved. I like it this way. I'm thinking less. Do what you want with me. You are in control. Always have been. I see it now. You can make me say these things on paper and aloud. You can make me believe them. I do. By the end, the game will be to make me realize I was wrong the entire f*****g time. I know. I do.

Flares

After the bar rooms had closed, you came to me claiming you were dreaming. Saying, "I'm an expert of Meaning." After our bottles chilled in oceans were drained, the salt on your lips held me captive. Amiss. The bottles break with me into madness. When the shock absorbs...the tremors have run off like sweat along my temples. They've shamed all. I presume you send the jackals to tear me up and turn me inside Out. Out of a sea on the sun you come. Yes, the vitamins. they've made you as ill as I am. The idioms we speak are not as fluent at hand but somewhere in the tangles our threads are unique. Through the era. Years have been treating us well. Passion and its victims of chemistry smile at the merry in their hell...

Vanity Fare

I'm regardless to whom I'm speaking of. Whether liquor and water stay common bloodlust for me. All but weightless the foulest are standing up. Null and void comes the vanished promised to the ballroom beloved. And you know you love them. Ballerina, you can stay as their princess doll. Clever girl, you're the witness they want to cut off. Bigot bandits of this house in home of rot. This is how the work gets done within the guts of the dead and buried. And alone they scare me. They caught me good meat. Down with this house I'm burning. And alone I scare me.

Milk In the Well

The new God who moved in next door has two broken arms. He requests our assistance to lift pale after pale from the ground. He wants his people to chew on his words. Quenching no thirst they suppress. Not the cream from the moment of birth. Bouts of white lie to white lie, he keeps them wrapped up in felt.

"it's been thousands of years since we've seen you, where were you held?"

"i'm not so sure anymore."

Kiss my feet. Undress me. Draw me a white bath which scolds. You're welcome my children.

Now he washes with the Devil in the milk from our well.

Don't you know? No one is happy to see you. Even if the second coming has arrived. Even if the second coming comes alive. Don't you know? The only thing they see in you are my eyes.

The cold man who lives next door. Yeah, he talks in his sleep. He tells me the things i ignore then he asks me to leave. i can't help but refuse his demand. He's the one in my seat. He says, "Boy, i was here first."

and i say, "Well - good for you."

Your time is up.

The old beast who lives over there...he just won't give up his throne. He says, "Boy, you could be me if only you'd pay attention to my show."

i say, "Man...............F**k................You."

i'm much better than you already. He looks away and sighs, "Yeah right kid, we'll see how you do."

Ionic Fascinations

Ionic fascinations kiss me and delude my purpose. I caught her selling blessings until I walked with the tempted. You know enough sweetheart, about balancing sweet appreciations for places you won't go. In such corners crawl out from your ego, demonic a la mode. Like blood to vapor. Like dry oceans of pantomimes. Sure patterns that I'd like you to see, they rip. Rip out of seas. Suck drops of holy relief. Then remain. Revert to what's you. I'm dying to stay in love with the spiraling threads of your sum. Aside I'm singing songs. Just singing my songs.

Needles Rhyme

Barrel onto me. Rolling cheek to cheek. From here to gracious cities in Germany. I'm on my knees. I beg you please. Touch me. In a room in void of time. The God avoiding room. In limbo, you are mine. Through bruised, I am not blind. I'm only weak. My time is yours to claim and climb. You're what matters of this moment. Oh, I promise you. Until you make me slip my mind. Your scent alone has startled it. It's easy for you, isn't it? To come, to love and go but leave the boy behind. Leave the boy. You would tell me to be sweet all the more often but you know you like the lies. The funny thing about this my dear lonesome lullaby is, to you, I cannot...(rhyme). You know you should have told me right from the start but then we'd never shape these nights. I'll go on to live my life. Let your image calmly die when you leave this boy behind. When you leave the world behind. Leave your toy behind. I will not follow. I will not drag my feet.

Mad, Mad

Many of men have tried to claim the man. The man they call the Mad. Got to say. I'm a fan myself. Make it plural. In a clan. For he who charges, sincerely, through this black, domestic wilderness. Emerging clean. Redefined. With only scratches, screaming. "Life Intact!" I vow. No hassle for a mind on a palette of pastel. Living a hostile deity in a mask? Never demons do tell. But there are always all the frightened ones. Just the enormous few. A majority who perpetually neglect to understand a balance. They are as foreign to him as he is to Man. And Man is so deeply foreign to men.

Torrent

Torrential moods whispering passion in a fashion so eloquent. There's no more time to move. And to set into motion a status above lovers is a feat of devotion deeply undiscovered. It's open. Interpreting the last, if any, viable contacts in a centuries' second of fallible signs. In, of an ellipsis so tame. Even our loyalty moans and lies. Hearts in chains surrounded by weak streets of developmental freaks. They're bedding down to detonate. Send us to the breeze. Two by two to ash. Until we all cease.

Opera

Stoic material shifting from exuberance. Through these eyes, I've disowned surprise. And yet, I love to idealize. As I've been told. To hold an ability and resurface stoned. I could sink through tight breakers and tie the knots in rows but there are the common stakes for any resourceful goals. Any of us. All of us in public, HEY! Pay here. Stay there and die fair. Forget the emergency yielding for the priority of our requirements to each and one another. Acting like distant lovers. We find. Realigned with our poetic justice for crime. Like the streets outside my fortress. All and every. One will let it rain symphonic operas.

SOSO

It's in the caress of your silk on my skin. And for a moment's brief, I'm relieved that you're dampened and laughing. Bouncing. And cracking on. It's a sweet water-down. Like glasses of brandy-melt. I'm hanging from a fire inside of a tired fine line. These are outlining faces from candles who smoke too much like me. Are the doubles of you. And what I imagine of you. No devils in you. Not either of the two. For what an image for a face! Like eyes. Like soul. But I can't envision a pulse pounding out the breathing rest. Aware. You are there. And I hope to find you care. 'Cause as I stand as a man with no plans. I find it comforting to know you're settling in my head.

Letters For the Animators

Letters for my animated coronas are drawn to the night. Our radiance has extravagance, see? Refreshed our nutrient fetish by pure word of mind. Mouth to mouth. A kiss for a kiss. Called a kiss of death for a reason. Look me in the eye and you'll find in me the boy you won't miss. Susanna's on fire. Blossoming towards me in a comatose. While I liquefy. She evaporates from soaking clothes and decides to agree to finally watch in me and purify those in need.

Travels

Clock me at a speed of one hundred and three, emotionless in a stigma. And it's a triad that leaves me drunk and shameless to a rhythmic disposition. So I say, 1, 2, 3. With the boiling of the air, every breath is a scolding speculation that I'm riding far too fast to make anything last, more than forever, less than a moment or just long enough for the time I am given. The eye of my twins bring integration to an empire to see how everything separates in order to dissolve, then recollect to have resolve in a new body. When this body lifts up to reach in and peak through the hole in the eye of a brief existence, slithering past the edges which encompass its fullness. The feeling of sound will shimmer brighter than your first taste of love. We'll awaken. Stand up so slowly and brush the fog closer to the widow we've created. What we help to create we always neglect and eventually destroy. While ancient and wise but falling on our surprise, they trip on our tricks and ploys. Whatever it was has floated away aroused. Drifting in soft cradle motions, a little faster than the leaves to the right of its side and a little too slow to influence the apathy of an arrogant race. A vascular system of seconds and millennia is the history of a place which fails in lucid recognition of itself. Ambivalent and lost.