23 February 2006

The space between what you think and what you say is filling with garbage water

grar. Dissertations are boring; constant reading, notemaking, cross-referencing, structuring... Barely any room for creativity at all. Yawn-o-Rama. Was reading up on Pull my Daisy last night before taking a little break to do a little random stream-o-conciousness, out of which I pulled the following piece. The title has just this second been thought up, well, remembered. I think I had it set as my microsuck messanger name for a while and its alot more interesting than the original title; let he without sin cast the first stone.

= * =

Thems outside,
they scratch
they scratch
the shell, the skin
wrapped in plastic
soda slowing around your insides
fizz, pop!

These times, they are d-caying
ice cap melting, ozone depletion
please don't mention where all the happy gone?
Just two right feet writ big in our souls
stick needles in our neighbours
for blood and oil and jesus christ
got high with Mohammad and the Buddha
you fools! I'll scratch your eyes out. Don't look at me cock-eyed
your'll lose more than your pretty face.
Cast stones not he with out sin.