One
latch to watch the column, two columns to watch the three substitute teachers
as they enter the classroom, expectations on their shoulders like penile
adornments. I look for truth among the smug frogs and only find calls for my
premature measurement according to sacks. I’ll agree, he’s mad with gold,
silver and platinum arrangements while the iron filings come down hard on his
family name. He doesn’t even notice, does this nutty individual who counts down
from seventy-nine out of compulsion. Today the word fell down to pernicious
circumstance and that word was innocence. Not cinema, innocence. Once again my
guest, dear innocence. Everybody from Rome
tends to turn to you for recovery and now you turn to me for crucifixion.
Talk
to me through manacles: why you deserve it, why you have no kingdom and where
such a kingdom as people describe it might come from, who even weighs down with
respect? This is new for the lacking populace, messiah ducking and black
wakeful thoughts from between the spaces in a graphic novel shelf. That is not
a reason, it’s never a reason for fiefdom mentality or the ritual flogging that
comes with it. Westerns tell it better anyway, through gritted teeth and minor
gesticulations. Negligible really. Can you still count about fourteen without
clapping your hands at nineteen for no damn reason? There’s a guy at the back
of the room singing that he has the answer to why you do this and what sort of
alien parasite is probably pulling your many inopportune strings.
I don’t
believe in the power of internet celebrity, not anymore. I courted the notion
of hand washing. Australia
seems to do it better, with far more camp fluctuation and ghostly whistling. We
turnaround, we the sentence that lacks law, we the man condemned to betrayal
for the rest of his clongy cloning days. The lashes are the beaks on the duck,
the bills on the platypus, all bound together in a rubber band that lasts for
ages. You wouldn’t respect the way that I stand, the method with which I feel
repulsion against my naked and gnarly person. Gather all the rice you can upon
my back while the song drums through the rest of my lively noggin, thereby
leaving its slick premonition on my unsatisfied nape. It’s all that you have to
do now that the war’s been struck and struck long.
If
I only knew how to know without truthful promotions, if only I could employ my
articles better without resorting to severe punishment! The rate at which this
length goes! Forth barely covers the scarcity of the subtle action seen in
these modern days of hardware disruption and electronic counting. Reach a new
understanding with the student body and you know what you have? A loaded reply
to yourself in the mirror of someone else’s Japanese garden and that’s it.
Lower yourself carefully onto the cold slab. The bells are my duty. Demotion is
the overriding fear of rats.
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