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A Shot in the dark
Probable future past, further, coold blooded woman/man
Um tiro no escuro
A shot in the dark
Next time I’ll shoot you in the mouth
Said the man, empty handed,
But not out of resources,
I might be traveling south,
It’s about grabbing the sources.
Capricorn Tropic, how do you Intend to behave
Considering the inconstancy of me myself and I,
The fact I have now one to say or heard or say goodbye,
Arrivederci, e nem Olá, que tal, ciau, mau mau (that’s not good)
Bad strings lead to worst songs,
Tales of despair becoming as if were being sung
By a creative force while composing the motherfuckers.
Sing for the moment and now is dark fetid rotten would be death but not yet.
Not yet one were really upset, say only warming up to the feast.
She stood sideways upon the stinky bed Looking at me from above the ground that where I always stand, lying in it.
She laughed at me with a gaze of despise, Her cat eyes glaring with contempt.
I’ve stared at that expression many times from females.
They did not know more and were correct in their own way, by their standards, and by those of the many, their smiles of condescending spiteful attitude were well deserved by the ones of my kind,
Nothing more than common losers, those who were to put aside drive over.
So I left unsaid unannounced got a cab to descend the thousand meter hills into Capricorn itself and the misty future past.
It was all about getting sources,
But tonight Satie languidly tells me to stop this nonsense and get to American Horror Story series three episode 6
Where she says she’s a millennial
She, a millennial,
I got two daughters that may be so, ten years apart, got a Z well characterized and two fuckers maybe R don’t have patience to get Greek letters
But Ro serves well to roll all over me and get the shit out.
I’ll be gone by then.
I have been gone by now,
Last decade I was already departed
And the departed, guys like me, don’t buy two way tickets.
When they apparently return they’re only ghosted planes of their former selves,
Whom maybe even themselves have never had the displeasure to have once meet.
Butt to face.
No buts
No truth.
All about mirrors and fairy tales.
Alicization and Oztracisations.
Grimm and Faust, Marlowe and Goethe
The brothers Karamazov stuck in the Castle, Lollita asking for pennies.
The league of extraordinary grannies.
(Not by Dominican standards
Saint Francis of Assisi,
No rope Outside the coffin,
No hope of pot over a rainbow, whatever.
Stop and pause, nauseated state of disarray)
Probable future past dismay, hear but don’t judge, you fucker of hours, triguer of sours!
A mist of reflection and introspection
#Association #Freedomto #pastandpresent #paths #wrath départ
