Kaotic glamour and symphomy of laptops. Wrong ways with no in sight to help. Confused as always green with envy, elipitcal paths just as misdirecting. Parking lots of fame. Never a space, never a doubt. Jammed fingers, sounds a car doors slamming.Propagnada tells me things that no wants to believe. But I know the truth.
A key to a good home is straight picture frames. Many positive things to rejoice about. I just can not remember anything. I try to take one step back and soak in the afterglow. Not much warmth though. Remember that there was a time that all we had to worry about was missing the new GI Joe episode? Or what I was getting for my birthday? Those times are so far gone that I do not remember when that they left me. Pinstripe prison keeps our bond, far from any good reason though. Brotherhood cloaks my true feelings, as does frozen Suzie Q's. Mass acsention is an extension of vaguely forgotten believes and family members of long ago. Disruptive times call for beer mugs wielding villians, pissed because of cheap domestic stuff. "No Crackers!" they proclaim. Terible feelings and shivering from the cold. Aid me with a jacket to comfort me from the evil beings that we call humans. No time for favors just paper hats and mixed drinks.
A woman with hand (a nice one I may add)offered me some spam. I was glad. I smiled. On her back she lay. I got laided. She held me near. I breathed in her ear. She held me closer. We closed our eyes and went to bed.
Faint soft sounds in the back ground. Like many things, it got too quiet and it hurt my little ears. Monotones established. Disruptives thoughts plague my head. The tiny domain that allows me to think and feel, hurts very much now. I bang it against the wall, hoping for it to stop. Not soon enough to save me though.
The tiny domain of home is left to the ants that roam it. Where ever they go, in unison, they travel with no limits. Electrical years cheer with whiplash, pausing for next week's truimph in figure skating. Oh glass litters my eyes as does the shame of my brother. "Hark" angel of sort. Never listening to my folks or the leadership of the community. The hell with them, he says grabbing a can of spray paint, vandalizing any wall in sight. Their homes can not sleep at night with a lunatic on the loose. But they seem to forget that they created him. Oh... They forgot. Let them choke on the fumes that ornament their walls.