:: 2009 12 September :: 3.30 pm

Congratu-fucking-lations, come enjoy the final festivities.
Cunt. Rat- you fucking latent scum. In June, thieve in all first cities.

Scale

:: 2009 10 September :: 2.45 am

Real is a, real as i
realisa
re: alias

realizing that real is different to/in different eyes and different vantage points show contrasting angles, leading to differences in perception, suggesting alternate realities that coincide but rarely cooperate. such schisms in the truth of our own awareness versus that of those around us cause intense and unrelenting discord.

The difficulty lies in discovering which combination of angles reveals the whole in a complete and undistorted idea. (The difficulty lies in the lies in the isle of our mouths, that writhing aisle leading us down the red carpet runway or is it off a plank?)

Scale

:: 2009 30 August :: 9.24 am

I am losing a piece.

The last thing you realize you need is what you've already got.

What.
What have I done?

Scale

:: 2009 26 August :: 1.01 am

setting: the forest.

a thin but persistent fog has nestled itself among the trees, limiting vision to less than 50 feet in any direction. the ground is a hotbed of decomposition; fungus flourishes in layers of matted leaves and pine needles. it crawls with silent movement, releasing puffs of earthly, vaporous fragrances. a damp collection of hollowed out browns, greens, and grays dominates the ominous landscape. the trees raise their limbs and stretch their trunks to the heavens, scratching at the opaque milkiness above. whispering, they sway in the wind. crooked branches leave dark and smokey trails of tenuous text as they carve in the secrets of birds that take flight in the sky but roost on the bark.

---a flurry of wings flutter feathers slash and ruffle iiin-in-(in flashes)-innnn-ininininninin chaotic commotion. talons pierce and struggle to grip, tumble and slip, tearing at the air at the sun in the sky. beaks find luck in orchards, feeding on worms plucked from the apple in your eye.---

the air is heavy, heaving (like lungs or the tide). a slow pulsation draws in, breathes out. constricting tighter... warmer... wetter... then stops. time drags on. hanging a motionless pendulum, dragging weightless like resting anchors. ("we can wait no longer," we think. "we must be running out of oxygen." panic bursts in testosterone bubbles as fear begins to boil and then we thrash) until ascension and exhale bring us suddenly out of the deep, as they loosen their grip, removing the gag.

my lungs are full of soil; membranous sacks of humid earth. (I lay them in the grass, collecting dew and through osmosis they inflate.)

Scale

:: 2009 23 August :: 2.12 pm

limpid, squalid figures
post their forms in flickers
upon film reels as candles dodge wind gusts or go with the flow

ragged, pixelated figments
viewed through kaleidoscopic-strobe-light eyes
hobble and drag closer in segments

I am,
detached,
unhookedscrewedlatched...... released
pressure flows in sound waves, we bathe in opalescence
how dare you, how dare you don't you fucking forget this

Scale