cathartic comedy bewitched the lack of confidence and subsequently air pressure propelling oxygen from lungs. it is a mad season. explicate they say. after the dark. after the fall. after the light. after the ash. after the decomposition. after the green. after the brown. after the black. after the fall. after the ash. after the decomposition. 1000 made from 1. only 5 will ever learn to stretch their legs. what does it all mean they say. the imbeciles are the fools who say it means nothing and do not understand the intertwined destinies of the grim fate of every particular soul. right are the fools who say the same but realize the comedy of free will. they say explicate. what is foggy is foggy. what is clear is only subjective. after this after that after who after what after when after where. the smile stays the same it is the sentiment propping the corners which changes with every passing phase.

a particularly well composed piece of literature worth bringing to the attention of sojourning bloggers: DEATH by NUMBERS: NOAH and The WHALE:

As our rotting bodies
Pay back the earth it's love
In a vile fleshy matter
We'll crumble into dust
I'll be picked up by the wind
And blown into strangers eyes
Defuse into their bodies
And their tears when they cry
'Til I have 5000 people carry me
'Til I have 5000 people carry me

Oscar and Lucy
Will buy themselves a coffin
Oh a single box of wood
That, together, they will rot in
And their bodies will decay
And combine with one another
Oh a single act of love
Far greater than any other
And in death they'll leave just a part of them
Oh in death they'll leave one part of them

Oh when I'm minerals in the soil
[ Find more Lyrics at www.mp3lyrics.org/pPko ]
I'll diffuse into a tree
It'll have 5000 brances
Which will have 5000 leaves
And I'll be in every one
Oh and when a leaf blows free
I will land upon the earth
And grow another tree
'Til I have 5000 trees made of me
'Til there are 5000 trees made of me

When Darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness is all I can see
When Darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness is all I can see
When Darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness is all I can see
When Darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness surrounds me
Oh when darkness is all I can see

I will have 5000 bodies
I will have 5000 trees
Which will have 5000 branches
Which will have 5000 leaves
And I will have 5000 lovers
And I'll have 5000 bees
Made of me

emigration of six legged insects. spider shanty towns in my chest cover up the gateway to heaven's steps, flower pedal children, conscripted to laugh. sinister, riptide lips curl and quiver with fluid dexterity, compelled, jaunted to swallow themselves by a pure execrable evil. still, they dance doling out lime and chloroform dividing potential between the seraph and succubi--heavenly hosts one perfect and the other ephemeral, could rest my raging soul. but sat proper and primrose showered a blue hue through the wasted breath of a smoldering city, august red burns in an amber glow over her, the valley. the queen sat at her throne, conqueror of morality, sewing innocence with experience, weaving a gray fabric ocean, held my arm close and whispered, "we need but throw ourselves in". i am a martyr, but not tonight. emigration of seven scrolls across the eyelids of a mutinous wreck. you are the arrow i am its home.

my midwest queen born from amber highways, gilded trumpets sounding through her holes.
blue lights pour from the sky, red and august dawn breaks, we swam together through the salty spray of somber oceans (dead soldiers), mists of alcohol and clouds of cheap cigarette smoke.
from the pale black cliffs every evening, she crawled into my head, whispered "if only we werent just stretched skin and brittle bones." i said "well darling you are the pauper and i am the cathedral walls, maybe something holy will errupt, (sanctuary's the gift of my all hallows hold) out of the empty smiles that disappear when your pupils close, when my pupils close" youre tossing and turning in your writers cloak, coy cinnamon fleet foxes in your hair and down your shoulders parting for a cryptic brow-- voyeur arrows, over stale blue eyes that echo your soul, climbing the ethics of ivory and midnight. you are soft white porcelain in an orange glow. the sky is pouring. fine whiskey glasses its a chantry cove, but who's taken the helm when i put my pen back down?

cause i'll be tired, drunk and all alone. it was your pretty face, echoed and shattered the only stained glass windows i ever owned.
so please dont.