a swirling wind of catastrophe
bleeds clean, souls dry of good deeds
lover’s hands shackled to the seats of a sinking submarine
dropping below, 2 billion leagues under the sea, for you see,Thousands are not enough for me.I believe in capitalism,materialism, Randy Savage and militancy, I believe in ecstasy,cocaine and speed, weed and LSD and I take all different types of methamphetamines, opiates and tranquilizers,muscle relaxants, some heroin and PCP, I haven’t slept in 17 weeks. (chapter 2)
I haven’t seen the sun in seven falls, only painted walls and bathroom stalls, cheap florescent lighting. Incessant laughing,my cold pale skin whitening. my brain is seized vitally,awkwardly and by force,mass attempts to stop the intruder only meant more casualties, and when the defenses wore, the mass graves were burned, and the women were whored, and the crickets played our final tune, as we sat in the living room, burrowing and planting our heads in pots, until our roots broke free of our ceramic tombs and My thoughts bloomed in the open air, thoughts and words were far from scarce, and speeches did ensue, the doomed audience silenced with doubloons, hush-hush, the dogs will be here soon we shuffled inside an arched hole at the edge of the room, like a group of test mice we scurried through doorways and hallways,till we felt kept for a second, In love or anger, whichever, it was out of danger. until we heard the sound of thunder creeping up the ally ways, waterways, crates and crevices too, for days it seemed like they came, and for days we remained silent with subtle movements, the dogs detected fear, and we knew this fact, but we held strong, all but one, and he passed on, for you see: Our means were necessary our mission was survival, the utmost necessity was silence, it meant all our lives were labeled with assassination and our voices were the tickets.(chapter 3) My dead mountain mouth spewed nothing but vivid & vibrant colors, my third eye was blind to solar beams and ushers, I pay them no mind. My diet is flapjacks, my wardrobe, if ransacked, would be worth eight dollars max, believe you me, I’m not THAT into fashion. my skin is oily and my palms are calloused, I make no attempts to protect my fading finger prints. I’m drooling blood now, my skeleton is giving out, I would scream but i don’t have the lung capacity to shout, I’m raw and in shambles, In public I ramble, in private I stammer, my intelligence is mediocre and I tend to ramble and I have a passion for chopping wood. I am the woods man. dead mountain tone, throw down roughly through rock gorges and wooded islands. dead bodies found scorched by hives and mosquito stings, a rough way to rest in peace. (chapter 4) seasick but still docked. My mind still lay in shock, thinking of western philosophers, mimicking my inner workings through a series of earthshaking slaps across the soil, I’m boiling alive in my strife and in my devil driven desires, I scream “I believe in God,and Mary and JESUS W. CHRIST!” but the needs grow stronger, if murder brings a stint in Valhalla than bring on the watchdogs, bring on the terror, my backbone is pure marrow, my blood is rich with diamonds, I am the Trojan horse of the human man, the sea let me in.