Saturday, March 25, 2006

live sessions

out of the quality of vampire sucking blood for no reasons, blotted stomachs, filled to the gills, during collapse of the mind, sucking and consuming in the freezing cold. Delicate membranes are cut with screams, screams react to an inner sloth inching along the dirt, trudging along with each pull of the oversize claw.

the piano plays on, the piano player laughs at nothing, just keeps playing.

The background, 1970’s reflective wallpaper, the cool-hip kind, cheap repetitions of someone’s cheap repetitive thoughts, that keeps playing on the flesh with liberal stained lips, ready for the weekly gathering of mumbling heretic’s glorification of ego penetration over crumbs and remnants.

unnoticed and unacknowledged broken bits lay on the table bleeding from lack of reception.

somewhere these scene are repeated in black and white with unclear subtitles. Everyone is sweating profusely from fear of the invasion or worse.

there is another scream, it is night, the cold returns with revenge.


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