Prowd Drowsy Knife Wound Attack OR Die Laughing Preferably

Alex Ziperovich

My scars are like diamonds, lying in mine shafts, shining and shining, buried beneath layers of wasted lust and dime bags, a fine day all sun no clouds, some homicide took place today but they were kind enough to avoid being loud

Murder as a word or murder like sticky blood congealing into sticky formless mud revealing our particular love for killing, syphilitic insanity spilling into our everyday lives until we’re left seething for meaning and we can’t hear our screaming even though our throat sounds like it’s opening up whenever it defiles the air with its cries, vainly showing itself like a couple holding hands that wants someone, anyone to watch as they dive from a high rise expecting something better than shitty mundane pain filled lives

Human species suicide machine beta ignition switch, armed with German pistols and the American dream packaged with ignorant belligerence, wishes implanted creating a profound emptiness only relieved by the masters and the slaves and the plantations and the mistresses of the holy double-dealing coincidence that presents itself as cryptic gift even though sadly it’s just religious shit

Sobbing for the rarely afforded dignity of a quick sudden unexpected death creating an unpredictable fine-tipped silence deep in our chest – breathing is important until it isn’t and we crash into the mindless fog of death without benefit of wisdom, it’s kindness and its warmth and its promises of rest, I hope I die a hero for nothing with a lie for pride and an eye for blind, seeing everything once the way it was meant to be seen before my tears and my regret cloud my eyes, until they shut like cases on unsolved crimes

Sound the sirens, beautiful maiden come to save me from these evil tyrants that are sharing my bed with smiling passive silent defiance, I should kill and build, fires blazing on pure will, relying on good things and bad and it’s sad because I rarely wake up feeling anything but sad because without exercise and exorcising my demons I will never escape the fate of remaining mad, as a meaningless cretin

So for all the love and the dire desire we all harbor and try to light on fire just remain calm as the plane erupts into fire and we land safely and return calmly to the exit rows ahead and behind our aisles and we’ll find beautiful islands full of everything we want and need but can’t describe because we’re stupid fucking liars without a sense of ourselves and that is the curse and that is our hell we are condemned in to dwell

Ring on a finger, body in a morgue and my nose is snotty from abusing the lord more, but good gracious so much I see that is not beautiful it’s like a joke on a loud speaker at a purportedly important funeral – the difference between life and death is the difference between numbers and roman numerals so beware of those that try to entrap you and kill your vision because that is all you’ll ever have, just run fast, so fast they can’t grasp what they don’t, what they won’t ever have, and keep what you keep and keep cyanide pills in case you cannot escape their wrath, because what they have is so crass it’s a laugh like Zyklon B gas

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