Scribbling thighs, lately.
How do you feel today?
I don’t know, doctor-too subtle to be angry, too strong to be disinterested.
Today, there are 99 channels competing in my head, Daddy Yankee being the stander-upper.
Oop-dukka-gasolina-din-taka-gasolina. Din-din-din. Woop-dukka-gasolina-jhin-chuckka-gasolina. Hey, hey, hey.
Followed by Eminem, followed by 50 cent, followed by almost nude women singing hey, hey, hey baby.
And beneath the window stands a little girl,
A tiny fragment hung up on nine-inch heels of happiness,
We pulled her pigtail; green creeper fell,
Moist in my hands as they twisty-shine in the cruel sun.
We walked her up and down hidden in little fists, she gushed,
Tiny and tender warm things that feel slimy in your hands,
And rubbed them on each others ruby-red faces,
So tired from the worldly tribulations.
And he watched O in the mouth as she rubbed it to his chest,
Little fingers scratching-Ice cold-he says.
A green wisp so beautiful blue,
A tangerine shade now aspirin white,
How they took my dreams and put them as prey to
Little pills and conditioning for reason,
A new world in them, new ideas.
Sometimes it just becomes too bloody difficult to die.
I find it tiresomely funny, doctor. This, this-aha!-hatred.
I don’t know, doctor-too subtle to be angry, too strong to be disinterested.
Today, there are 99 channels competing in my head, Daddy Yankee being the stander-upper.
Oop-dukka-gasolina-din-taka-gasolina. Din-din-din. Woop-dukka-gasolina-jhin-chuckka-gasolina. Hey, hey, hey.
Followed by Eminem, followed by 50 cent, followed by almost nude women singing hey, hey, hey baby.
And beneath the window stands a little girl,
A tiny fragment hung up on nine-inch heels of happiness,
We pulled her pigtail; green creeper fell,
Moist in my hands as they twisty-shine in the cruel sun.
We walked her up and down hidden in little fists, she gushed,
Tiny and tender warm things that feel slimy in your hands,
And rubbed them on each others ruby-red faces,
So tired from the worldly tribulations.
And he watched O in the mouth as she rubbed it to his chest,
Little fingers scratching-Ice cold-he says.
A green wisp so beautiful blue,
A tangerine shade now aspirin white,
How they took my dreams and put them as prey to
Little pills and conditioning for reason,
A new world in them, new ideas.
Sometimes it just becomes too bloody difficult to die.
I find it tiresomely funny, doctor. This, this-aha!-hatred.
Labels: RnB
posted by De.vile at 10:53 PM
6 Comments:
Ok lemme be frank ...
this 1 totally went overhead. :D
Though i c a subtle change in the writing style....umm reminds me of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and/or Rushdie.
ooh! now thats a feeling I can relate with anyday.pure unadultrated hate.
wooooooo hoooooooooooo
guess who?
Maybe I'll provide you footnotes then? eh, Rebel?
Yip, Hatred feels good. This time it did, mixed up with an awful background score.
And Annonymous, what do I get for that?
Hatred enables us to overpower all other emotional states. Venomous anger allows sadness, grief and frustration to be buried six feet under.
devile....ya wanna fight? Very theraputic.
For some strange reason, this one made me think of some good old Lovecraft stuff….
Hmmmm!
Rock on!
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