A fifteen foot high Goliath, dangles roadkill from his pilgrim belt, fingers soaked in party glitter and petroleum. The sweat of the Earth's anxiety, summoned from the roof of Agharti, propelling his boots to a field of recycled mattresses. The Book of Failure is tied to his swollen legs, confounding accounts of miscalculation and misfortune, covered in paper tulips. Wearing his shoes to bed, he realizes that a barefoot walk in the dark, feels as blinding and disorienting as four thousand flourescent lamps focused on the right retina. It reminds him of an abortion speech in high school, ending at seven minutes with his uncontrollable shaking and the phrase "uneffected fetal matter". He twitched like a beetle crushed with a thesaurus. "Suffering: The Musical" is better from the audience. The pudgy principle's cackling penetrates your eardrum until your brain becomes stripped, bubbled pizza and your emblazened spirit tumbles to absolute zero. The three-fingered carpenter in the second aisle, becomes a reverse giraffe, his neck and crown, sunken and surrendered to the staleness of the floor. The sultry leads sign the playbill in used purple crayons and caligraphy pens. The Goliath sleeps in the vibrant, sacred lands of the discarded Lakota tribe, next to the drive-thru strip bar, guarded by witch stakes and spears which we once called fences, in an effort toward eloquence. He has raised communities of gray, emaciated figures who morph, like fifteen cent foam dinosaurs, from human expressions, into murmuring, terrified afterthoughts. Muzzled and wandering in the county Zoo, in suits of styrofoam armor, their eyes glow nuclear.
Гуру Песен