phosphorouslusciniamegarhynchos

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
You have the tendency to look for meaning where there is none.

Submitted: October 21, 2011

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Submitted: October 21, 2011

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YOU HAVE THE TENDENCY TO LOOK FOR MEANING WHERE THERE IS NONE AND WHERE THERE WILL NEVER EVER BE STILL HOPING

theme songs you remember from childhood which bring with them warm memories that

AND WHEN THE GREAT BIRD MADE ITS WAY INTO THE NIGHT THE FEATHERS DID BURN THE RETINAS THE WIND WHISPED NEATH THE

tickle the hairs on the back of your neck come lighting slightening down the back of your

DETERMINATION IN ITS FLIGHT THE MOON ECHOED THE DEEP BLUE EYES THE OTHER BIRDS THEY DID STEP ASIDE THEY KNEW THAT THE

spine then the last time that you cleaned your place was a soft pillow echoing the mish-

KING OF THE SKIES WHOSE TALONS GRIPPED BRANCHES THICKER THAN THE SECOND GREATEST BIRD COULD TEAR APART THE VERY

mash paddywack of television leftover on sunday anime garbage ten years now back

HEART THAT BEATS THAT BRINGS THE TREATS THAT ALLOWS THE OTHERS TO MAKE THEIR WAY THROUGH THE DAY AND THEN SOME---

rewind the jibberish jabberish where you have been finding out something else you is the

ELSEWHERE IN THE AIR WITHOUT A CARE THE HUMANS IN THEIR GREAT BIG METAL BIRDS COAST BACK AND FORTH TO AND FRO FROM

producing the juicing looting passengers then locked in the ward violins playing while

MAINE TO SPAIN TO BUFFALO WINNING OUT OVER THE BOATS BELOW THE BIKES THE TRIKES THE SKATERS AND SO WITHOUT A CAR

electric green strobes you’ll be back with the pancakes maple syrup & violins continue to

WITHOUT MUCH ADO POURING OUT FROM THE SIDES OF THE HOLE IN THE SKY WHERE THE GREAT BIRD FLIES WHERE THE GREAT BIRD

play humming along bouncing off the sides of the room she had a lesion on her brain she

RIDES THE EXPERIMENTAL METHODS THAT NO LONGER PROCRASTINATE BUT NOW BRING WITH THEM THE PUNGENT STENCH

appeared different he was talking to doorknobs the whole time that the both of them were

OF CURDLING BLOOD OF DEAD TRUISMS OF IMPOSSIBLE IDOLS OF IMAGINARY FRIENDS LYING FACE UP ELIMINATED IN THE GUTTER

engorging themselves upon recreational drug use then the symptoms in the sierra nevada

BECAUSE THE KNIVES ARE OUT THE GUNS ARE COCKED THE BOMBS WITH THEIR PINS HAVE BEEN PULLED THE MOLOTAVS HAVE BEEN LIT

were as crystal clear as pixies trying to convince themselves that they were real then is

AND OUT ON THE SIDEWALK YOU LOOK UP AT THE BIRD WHO LIGHTS THE SKY AND DIVES DOWN IN COMPLETE DESTRUCTION OF THE

when the pen in hand written down the fool around the place of unsound mounds the

WORLD BELOW THAT PLACE THAT YOU PUT SO MUCH FAITH IN THAT PLACE THAT YOU LOVE SO VERY MUCH KEEP ON TELLING EVERYONE

place of trumped up tramps with stamps with clamps that scramble along the edge of

YOU LOVE THAT IT WILL ALL STAY THE SAME BEING QUITE COMFORTABLE AND QUIET UNTIL THE BITTER END BUT WE BOTH

preambles that is where you left us.

KNOW DIFFERENT.


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