Saturday 27 April 2013

27/04/2013 - TO THE CONTRARY


            To the contrary we go with handfuls of rice, casting bits into the lagoons in between concentric dimensions. It's like the cornucopia of wealth, of starvation, of untold umbrella factions, of preternatural velocity. We are rushing out on our milk stones, on our tempted roustabouts, on a wink of foreboding. Erasmus kept the key-holder trapped in a grasp or a clasp: we can never be sure because the bikers sealed off the hull and continue to trial the knob that asks 'why'. Asthma drains my source material and therefore makes me unable to predict futuristic events outside of a liquefied horizon.

            Here is the plan of attack: thrust the quick quilts against Erasmus' rawhide and watch the coolant pour out of each executive nostril. When enough time has passed, reach under his chin and dissect stripy lozenges. Apply these lozenges to a unique formula called Compound Sac and fling it around the children's cot. See it burn the shaving cream, see it rust apart the lightning round. It's exactly the sort of thing that causes sudden death in red-headed hatchets. That way you can make plenty of room for proud footings and complimentary quiche. There could be probabilities happening right now and we'll never fix ourselves from this didactic spot. And so it was.

            But should it not be, bind the cotton with retro-thrusters and cast the vitamin diamonds to the crusty hemisphere. The clouds eat their own out here, they're all made of dust and structural cannibalism. It makes the man's hand a sliver against the carved-out dawn, maybe even finding the twist in the cable in the middle of the heavenly calculator. It all makes for a hard formula to compromise, all it's swerving black marks and wrinkling fields of abstract thunking. It could be merging and making staples out of our tacit hairs but it's too proud to be so architectural.

            It's not that we don't care, it's that we shouldn't. These days the dust covers and flicking the books back and making them into golden watches worth a multi-screen on the market. It would sooner loose the tapestry from the werewolves' clutches without even touching the neatly-trimmed nails of success. The diaphragm leaves us truly demonic, it lets us smoulder in our own desire for truancy and lima beans. It makes the arm bands drip away into harbingers for the ant people who lie beneath the faltering carpet. We could spend our time thinking about ways to make Erasmus beg for mercurial majesty but to do so would be a waste of a perfectly sweet and rummy hamper.

            Medicine is supposedly the answer but how can anyone be certain that the chemicals can even help? The people of our fair city cart around feasibility so we don't have to, they go about their days doing little else but throw caramels against business suits. It's only Tuesday and choose me outright or face the failure of blurry principality. I'm sorry, it just makes me so horrifically mad.

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