Thursday, July 16, 2009

fragments (thoughts)

Dash Snow, courtesy tv blog

sure i'm tired,
____but thinking about life, it increases my heart-rate for god's sake.
___no, you do. you always wanna talk about it. i'm not saying that ;
__i'd call it a preoccupation that's what.

(and afterwards takes hours to put them all back in their box again)
____all i'm saying is, there are no lessons left there for us. we've digested them all.
___what? we ate the meat, we've cleaned the bones. look at them shine like teeth in moonlight.
__the bones or our ghosts.


music louder. louder. dance air, dance. move. stop standing there doing nothing.

it's like swallowing more than you can eat. force-feeding it into your ear. take it take it take it.

dilute my blood with it.

there's a frontier here somewhere that i need to open.

all possibility. throwing out likelihood and the crankshaft and margins of error.

when you get it right, everything takes a step back from you. you're haloed.

not happiness exactly. not hope- invincibility.

the only logical outcome of my humanity: to abandon it.


there's nothing left to talk about. think of your skin not as a boundary per se, but as a general guideline. a rule of two thumbs and dropped keys in the parking lot. everything a prelude. gateway drugs. sinister laughs, teeth white. make thursday dance for its bread. i speak one language: noise. don't feel emotions, feel heartbeats and bicep contractions and tingles of cold and numbness across my skin. i am all sensation, no thought. banish that.

(my cold hands are the only way i can tell now. the euphoria's gone. the feeling 'high'. i can't remember what my brain was before all this. how it worked, sounded... manouvered around itself. the dose has gone up. magic beans?, maybe; or pearls that were eyes, or sugar tablets or hits of reality not even reality can fathom. maybe. i can't remember how it processed. what the speed of things were. what my eyes would notice. can't remember can't remember. not important. this is a brave new bedlam. (louder, music louder) (speaker's howl and screech). i can't tell. take another? wait and see how cold your hands get in half an hour. now? (or are they little white teeth or shrunken dried out stars? are they shards of calcified angel's wings, frozen-in-time teenager first-kisses? silver bullets. a physical representation of C and B natural pressed together on the piano, a clue about the colour of the future? one sixteenth of an orgasm, salt, the scales of God's skin? is it a voodoo quick-fix shortcut to Wonderment? is it the dust of the valley of truth? is it delusion? is it a recollection of madness? the darkdark premonition of a darkdark future breeding shadows into every whichwhateverway? is it all i have? best-friends and/or the discovery channel for the curious-on-the-go, is it the sweet-sorrow of parting? is it the rinds from drum-skins after rock concerts? is it trance music condensed? is this hell is this heaven is this pandemonium? dear god i'm soo [emotion for which no word has been invented] not to feel fear...

(louder. dance. dance. louder. louder. louder. louder.

____(initiate launch sequence now)

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