bichoose (bichoose) wrote,
bichoose
bichoose

Tuesday 17th April 2007.

Is it really tuesday the seventeenth,is it really April,what does this blank space really mean,this box of white,this giant snowflake, a virgin untouched by bold knights of old, no dust bunnies grow old here,no green leaf weed growing in polythene bags, no police hiding in the bushes waiting to jump out with giant inflated trunch balls crushing gravy monsters in Red.

In stead i sit here at the end of the night,the hush roar of rubber on engines rush under the curtain with gargoyles strapped to the hopper hoods, the var-room churns vats of butter while dancing elves climb into pockets.Sleep wearily folded into the skin of those giant triffids, which are not really triffids at all, but i want them to be.However i splutter obstinate melancholy thoughts,the worst possible words read by Mistress, so i will not dwell to much on reasons why..tonight whilst working a car pulled up across from me the song " Sounds of Silence " poured from window to within my mind, let such fill the empty chasm one of numerous, to drizzle somewhere in my baggage Bus....flatulence hides amongst the rhubarb.The tapestry of life wove more doom and gloom was it in gold perhaps silver or maybe simply the wizz of bullets.
In the canteen this morning before the beasts arrived there cocks shifted in coarse hair,their smell full of hey and hairy spiders scampering across the floor how famous they have become.

Yes toast..i clambered up the stairs burst forth on the new day, the canteens hairy plates unwashed cups,had already enough,were to be seen crawling down and out to some sharp corner where tiny Adolf Hitler used to wash his cabbage mints, forgetting natures quest, heavily trodden butterflies bask naked in the warming weather.
I wonder if there were any butterflies in Virginia to day..in amongst the unwashed i toasted my toast the pictures flickered on the television...how many dead ..what a dungeon filled camera crew threw lenses onto the underpants of media. Did they shout yes we have no banana's..i stared at the screen this news, ugly unfeedable robotic-nerd feeder...aaarrhhh who are the nerd feeders on the planet....
I watched the screen dance felt absolutely nothing as if this gun strike was nothing more than cartoon network....as i peered at the screen with hand on toast..i could not help but think gosh are those snow flakes real and is it really April and those hats the policemen wore, brought a distant time warped movie, where drink up yer milk rolled around the tongue as the mounties always get there man..

oblivious to the real horror of such shootings i could only think of the beauty of falling snow...
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