ABSTRACT SKILLS, KILLS.
Heir soir il n'ya pas des etoiles dans le ciel noir.
Endlessly time and again, a vacuum at my navel pulling in everything happy and arises nothing but a painfully dark feeling and answers that reek of guilty pleasure. And suddenly the only thing happy is a Led Zepplin song light and sunny like the Ocean.
This week in sentences: Give me thy hand! I think I am going blind!
Black to brown to nothing at all. Give me colours, give me.
Individuals with abstract skills and no social skills are absolute failures.
And a room with beige walls with brown spots and long dark legs rested carefully against them.
And suddenly you know how inflated noises sound like; so close you know 20% liquor-ed drinks can get you philosophical. The water seems to bite into your hands. And before you know the sofa throws you up and down. Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy baby Wee! How fun to be 17 again. Gallons of chocolate sauce was used instead of blood in Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Psycho.
And then you see the sun set before your eyes leaving behind effervescing purple. Alls well.
Hier soir, il ya des etoiles dans le ciel noir.
-Are you still unhappy, she asks.
He suppresses a giggle pressing his teeth on his wanton black lips.
-We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, Yellow submarine, she croons.
They laugh, happy children on a winter scratched afternoon.
Endlessly time and again, a vacuum at my navel pulling in everything happy and arises nothing but a painfully dark feeling and answers that reek of guilty pleasure. And suddenly the only thing happy is a Led Zepplin song light and sunny like the Ocean.
This week in sentences: Give me thy hand! I think I am going blind!
Black to brown to nothing at all. Give me colours, give me.
Individuals with abstract skills and no social skills are absolute failures.
And a room with beige walls with brown spots and long dark legs rested carefully against them.
And suddenly you know how inflated noises sound like; so close you know 20% liquor-ed drinks can get you philosophical. The water seems to bite into your hands. And before you know the sofa throws you up and down. Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy baby Wee! How fun to be 17 again. Gallons of chocolate sauce was used instead of blood in Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Psycho.
And then you see the sun set before your eyes leaving behind effervescing purple. Alls well.
Hier soir, il ya des etoiles dans le ciel noir.
-Are you still unhappy, she asks.
He suppresses a giggle pressing his teeth on his wanton black lips.
-We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, Yellow submarine, she croons.
They laugh, happy children on a winter scratched afternoon.
Labels: Out in the Spring
posted by De.vile at 11:12 AM
21 Comments:
Hmm... i think i'm going to have to adopt you...
Ot at least offer mysterious patronage- yes!
i shall link you at the earliest possible opportunity... this is one of my favourite blogs to read, and i am quite astonished at your prose; i swoon with admiration.
When i was your age i was far more dull... so less formed within...
And now i am...
I'll say what i always tell u... U have a gift for words !
Hi Dil.Ville...
A new corner ahead... New Horizon... Wish u the Best of Everything........
Peace,
Firacub.
Like every other human
I never had anythin much to talk about But If I dig it
It may even get deeper
Hope u still have warm words in the cold evening ...
Abstract individuals are skilled in the absolute.
As usual i dint read
just dropped by to tell u
i love u
and Merry Christmas
Lol..fer some reason, this post made me smile..almost chuckle..mmm..chocolate instead o blood in them Alfred Hitchcock movies..how very fascinating..and might I add..tres delicieux! I'm going to echo saturnyne's offer..of adoption and/or mysterious patronage...bless me..where the devil did my originality go? one cannot help but emulate ze greats occasionally..:) and I do hope you've had a wonderful Christmas!
Your posts have a sort of hypnotizing effect on me, where I read them and I finish smiling, wholly unable to explain why.
Keep it up.
The Ocean is about the audiance, Jimmi Page wrote it because he thought the kids were not understanding him correctly
Give me thy hand I think I'm fucking drunk
It is at these festive and emotionally forced moments that we can feel the Drain. In this case, the Drain of Colors, which apparently where hiding the lacking social graces of certain folk, leaving the banality plainly shown.
The colors will return.
Rock on!
O Saty baby,
If you were dull (which Im sure you werent) you more than make it up now.
Thank yous lovely Rebels and Cubbies, hoping new years fun at Goa n Del.
Im not really cold, just selfish or something
Yip, am abstract. Only way to make teenage seem fun, sometimes.
Merry Christmas, all. Belated, too.
To Esoteric Wombat and Surrealiste;
Im glad it made you smile when you finished. I wanted it that way.
To dlak-ness,
I still love it. Go ballistic when he sings OO yea!
Rexy-ness,
I know your having a blast. The colours will come, again and again and the pleasure will be all ours *laughs a fucked up evil guy laugh*
that's the best thing i've read this day! awesome, de.vile. simply staggering.
oh, and happy new year's.
DUMMY !
dont u no it is New Year
all the devils and the old men were burnt on 31st night
i survived
u did too, i guess
who ever gagged transience
has a lott to learn about gagging
Happy New Year Devile!
Keshi.
heyyy De Vile
cant u be just a little feminine?
i am all tings to all woomen
if a wooman is sweet
i can be sweet too
how about acting sweet and coy
and discovering how to blush ?
but for heavens sake
dont put on moderator like keshi does
and there i was, swimming in random swirling images that only gods in your head can understand. i guess that's how abstract is and should always be. still, i like it. especially the part where i bounced off in the sofa.
here's to a great year ahead! :)
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