A bouquet of barely boiled flesh fills the air
And invades the nostrils
Grabbing hold to each cilia
Yanking and prodding its way through the olfactory system
Wisps of bright white feathers flutter in the breeze
Slowly drifting away, littering the grass
Like snowflakes on the freshly mown lawn
As each quill is plucked from its home
And cast into a monstrous grey bucket
The knife wielder appears
Slashing through the soft, hot skin
Crimson splatters slowly drown snow white feathers
And the place reeks of death and disappointment
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Mounted high, inconspicuous contraptions capture still images of lovers and burglars alike. In a world where we can't get past our differences, we have been able to agree on one thing: humanity is dangerous. People bring problems, cameras maintain security, government provides all. More cages are erected to hide those deemed unsuitable for our Utopian society. Out of sight and out of mind. Problems dissipate and disappear right before our eyes as scrolling teleprompters bring us truth: humanity's still dangerous, surrender to the eye!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
an extreme aversion to an immersion of some undeniably grotesque reaction to the concoction of the abstraction now deemed society lends itself nicely to other peoples predisposition to label their environmental agents in an effort to provide themselves with neat, concise images and definitions for simplicity in an overly complicated worldview. like doppler radar, everything repeats itself as it inevitably inches farther off the green screen, further out of sight. suddenly, no one will remember that anything was forgotten and the saga of this age shall proceed just as before. like all else, this whole charade will eventually come crashing down on top of itself, spewing forth the remnants of a materialistic age to float off like ashes from an urn. will the remains of this society be solely ideological decompositions or that of a physical nature. an apparent lack of societal creativity may lead some to predict the latter, an ignorantly idealistic nature perhaps the former but peering up through the double-paned windows, glancing over treetops and mountainsides, leads to the summation: it is thus.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Illuminated by the globe-less porch light that casts monstruous shadows across the yellowed grass, two sets of teeth lay claim to a small squeaky creature and stretched it to its limit, physically. It's tiny voice was muffled by the thick black sky bearing down on the whole untimely situation. For a moment the unopened eyes felt the cool, crisp sense of calm of the winter air before being introduced to a new kind of despair as it was hummed and purred out of existence. My only thought: I can't wait to eat my babies.