This world breaks my head
Blown by the brainless
Then comes an Afar
Swollen dusky with dust
Hysterical rain
Fading cries of blight
Awaken the desert
Gaseous tropical smog
Clouds of the dead ochre ocean
Pustules and scabs by midnight
An earth poisoned dying dead
Fragments of despair
Crowds of solitary damned
Crops of humans withered
Daybreak sees loss of vision
A future goes past in my head
As fuming winds never sleep
With buds grown in toxic waste
Creeping, crying amidst
Rocky deserts of bones
Petrochemical seed
Sown by the grotesque
Head swollen with theorems
Hands throttling technology
Feet fluttering in quicksand
by AGLawrence, overwriting Yves Tanguy by David Gascoyne
Yes, your feet were fluttering in quicksand, and now you are in it hip
deep. There are things squirming around in the quicksand. You know what
they are ? They want to feed on something. Do you feel that tugging at
your trousers and that wormy squirming sensation pushing itself in cold,
wet and intimately close ? Tbey will eat it if they get a chance. Leave
nothing but a bit of stump where it used to be. Does that turn you on,
Kwigdl44 ? Caroline thought it might turn you on. Well, if you want to
remain three legged Kwiggy, you better find a way to get out of that
quicksand, or you will end up worse off than Bluebot did when Bluebot
sat on that ice and turned blue.
It happens because you keep saying "prick". Caroline doesn't like that
word and wants you to stop using it. Otherwise something will happen,
the way it is happening. That quicksand will return every night. You
won't get any sleep fighting those things off, as they squirm around
your legs and try to get at your crotch.
R.