CoMa
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| ANGELS | ||||||||
| I can't sleep right now. The angels of thought and inspiration won't let me. So I thought I'd throw down a couple for you. You know, I was laying in bed not counting sheep, and I thought how much creation actually comes from destruction? How odd that the older and more degraded our body becomes with age, our minds and souls are ever more enlightened. It's too bad that we don't have the ideas we get when we're thirty, around the age of twelve. I mean, some of us did. I was once told that for only being 20 at the time, I had the mental capacity of a "...grampa." But for others this just ain't happening. I'm tired. I have a long day ahead of me. The green faerie and I are going to witness the omen. My angel is coming too. But she must rely on her own wings to get her there as she is growing a goddess inside herself. The skeletons are becoming opaque and I see only what I want me to see. I will write often so that you cannot read, I must warn you. Sometimes I make a new english. Sometimes I need to write merely to get on paper. Sometimes we die merely to get onto a headstone or a cover story. Sometimes we die to get famous and other times we will die for eternal life. As the clouds part on day five, I await with baited breath the parting of the sixth. It will be a good day indeed. Gather up your magick and carry it up the hill. There I'll be standing with an absinthe will. We'll sing a song of sin-spence in a pocket full of lies. There will be crack-rockettes and homosexuelephants. The circus of the dead stars starts soon. Prepare yourself for the celebration of the greatest nothing of all. It's 4:20am...You know what that means. I'll see you on the hill. Keep the dirt inside your mouth. CoMa |
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