Gorette66

Stab the needle into my eye, watch the blood run, watch the blood flow into the river of Time. Listen, do you hear the siren calling? Her song is a tempting one—it flows over the rocks and the trees, and I'm drowning, I'm drowning beneath the waters where poison runs deep in the cracks of the earth. Come, take a look. Red blossoms and blue veins, I see on the horizon. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. One day like today, it's all a blur. The seconds tick by, a frozen march. Shadows in the corners, crawling up the walls and creeping across the floors. Cold, so cold, all roads lead to the wasteland.

It creeps into your flesh like so many black beetles, their mandibles laced with the poison of discontent. Each sip you drink from the murky waters of Life erodes the veins that carry Sanity to the weightless mass called your brain. Watch the body rot in slow motion, frame by frame, the film spinning, relentless, in its wheel. There is no pause. Piece by piece, your shell is chewed up and spat out, leaving nothing but the skeleton of insecurity. The bones crumble into dust, blown away by the winds of instability. Your skull chatters the words of a man consumed by madness, seeing all and nothing in its barre

       A barrage of discordant notes invaded Alan's subconscious, rousing him from his sleep. Groggily, he groped the nightstand until his hand rested upon the cool plastic of his wailing alarm clock. He yanked the plug out from its outlet and watched with pleasure as the red L.E.D. blipped into nothingness. Light filtered in through the window blinds in shafts of orange and yellow, casting odd shadows about the room.      Wearily, the dying man removed himself from the comfort of his bed and went about his morning routine. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror revealed a shell of a man. Gray patches stood out against the thinning sea of br

New York May be the city that never sleeps, But Shanghai Doesn't even sit down, And not just because There is no room. Things move fast in this town Which is both New and old, Western and Eastern, Adidas and Adidos, Adadis, Admimas, Daiads, and Odidoss. Blink, And another lane with hundred- Year-old shikumen-- Each home to handfuls Of families— Is bulldozed. In its place, here comes a high-rise Rising higher than the one Put up yesterday, a clothesline and An illegal satellite Dish poking out From each window (a twenty-eight-hundred-square-foot Four-bedroom, four-bathroom Rental at the luxurious Richgate: $8,572

slender fingers, nails trim and translucent, hardly touched by time; they are a pianist's hands. he twirls the wooden cane with ease; two black holes that are his eyes stare into all and nothingness. this is a cage of red velvet and brass doors; where dreams are born and trusting souls are consumed by the Void, a black swirling mass that consumes all; this is the Final Death. hope, dreams, love, laughter — all state of existence denied. i ask him, Why do you stay, knowing that the mind is rotting away, and he replies, laughing, There is always tomorrow, another day to mislead and misguide; to u

This strange object, what is it? Its surface polished black, the afternoon light Distorted in its visage Fine ridges paint a circular portrait. Code, perhaps, of a moth-eaten society's Hubris and vanity. No, something clicks. The woman begins to remember. Warm evenings when the apartment sang Of adulterous love, dreams long gone. Hazy fragments show the (record) spinning round And round. Who was the man on the lonely platform? (Nobody knows) Does it not matter if we all die? (Maybe) Change the facts, change the world? (Probably not) No stranger to the one called Steve, High on shimmering stardust, She remembers all and not