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Bottom two pieces go out.

Alice in Wonderland: The true story

Through the night she walks
And she's dazzled without a light
Blinded to the insidious poison that lives inside
Down the stairs she creeps and creaks
Vestigial but beautiful
Beautifully filled with indecencies

It's been years since she had any gumption
And all that's left is a shell of melodramatics
So while she's made to perform fellatio on the devil
She closes her eyes to hallucinate

A two story cathedral.

Coloured high rise windows that she can't make out
The priest talking all inconspicious
Her father acting all suspicious
And then her teeth slips-

The devil smacks her


Blood pours from her broken gums
And tears bleed from her bloodshot eyes
Vestigial but beautiful
Beautifully fractured
So she spins away spindle-like
Back towards the two story cathedral
To reach the top
So she can reach the bottom.


The cathedral window;
it's a hallowed ground for me.
Day after melodramatic day,
I climb to the top floor and sit,
peering out the window.
Within minutes, I'm between hallucination
and a vestigial reality.
Strung out, watching the people as they
pace by doing unimportant things
with their useless little lives.
Feeling their insidious hope that one day,
when all other people have failed,
when the world is seemingly crushing down,
when the sky is quaking and the earth is vaporizing,
the gumption in their souls will see them through.

How do they not realize they are just as fractured as me?
That the spindle inside them is just waiting for an
opportunity to shatter into a thousand pieces;
they'll implode at that moment.
I know, I've seen it.
People walking down the street
crack-a-lacking a long, enjoying life;
something snaps.
They fall to their knees a broken son-of-a-bitch.
Tears and shouts to God and self-worthlessness.
It's beautiful.
The moment where the being realizes his frailty,
his insignificance. The moment where every goal he's
ever had falls away and he's left standing face to face with
a human... not a person;
a member of a species... not a capable intelligent being.

It deserves its own soundtrack.
It needs epic violin tracks in the background,
for this is the defining moment in every life.
After you know you're useless, do you keep living?


They call me Witness.
I've come accustomed to watching people break;
God has made it my purpose.
Ever since I broke, ever since I didn't keep living,
God wanted me to watch them. Ego-fellatio he called it.
I just have to watch,
as punishment for my 'poor decisions.'
If only God knew how much I love my job.

you've got a lot of gumption, boy...

the grains of old age hung above him,
fractured glasses marking the end of his
fractured youth. i can see well enough without them,
with my gums feeling their ways across these cathedral walls,
painted with glee and priestly fellatio.
"you're hallucinating," i said,
"you're fucking hallucinating".
"i named you"
"no shit"
"i named your mother"
"you crack-a-lacking piece of shit"
"i named your grandmother"
"you crack-a-lacking piece of old shit"
he smiled his vestigial dorsal-fin smile.
it reminded me of an anal fin grin.
it was innate.
"she was a great woman,"
he started, "she would sit at her spindle,
with her legs, spinning out a spool of cotton
out of fractured wire-rimmed glasses, because,
because we didn't have any money then"
"who? my mother or my grandmother?"
"my grandmother, you stupid fuck.
you were too young to know her--
you're too young to know anything".
"i'm s-sorry". i didn't feel like arguing with him
anymore, with fisted melodramatic passages--
"she was sitting at her spindle
with her legs spread apart--"
"What?" I said,
"stop interrupting--"
I punched him in the face.
"You insidious motherfucker!"
he yelled from the flaps in his roachy throat
"do you have any idea?"
I punched him again.
his glasses fractured into two more parts.
I punched him again.
his glasses fractured into four parts.
"what the hell was that for?"
"I just wanted to make four even fractures,
that was all."
"you're an idiot"
"who was it? my grandmother or mother?"
"you're really an idiot".

I punched him again.


Walking out of the ancient cathedral
into an old vesitigial courtyard
and into the cold, refreshing air
that produced a feeling akin to fellatio,
I saw an egg, perched precariously
on an old, fractured wall.
What gumption, to be able to sit on a dangerous wall like that.
Behind him, an insidious, shadowy stranger
weilding something that looked like a large spindle,
hit him over the head with it,
and sent him toppling
to the dusty ground.
His broken, bleeding
(strangely, yellow and white blood)
body lay on the ancient stones
and men and horses
started showing up by the thousands,
resulting in such a melodramatic scene,
I must have been hallucinating.
What a crack-a-lackin' guy,
I thought to myself.
God, I'm a clever asshole.
hah, I misspelled "away" in the beginning, it's supposed to be "ways"
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian