Bon. Voyage. Oh, disparate destination. Oh, giddy dawn over crashed flight. Oh, haze of smoke dervish over wreckage of dreams. Your pursuit of your dreams unrelenting and so glib, so grin unrelenting, so sparkle-toothed flouride smile, as if to reach that impossible star you wouldn't supernova flashburn like paparazzi flashbulbs so our silhouettes, huddled in fear and screaming, burned steaming into the walls of our houses, our edifices of worship reaching, spines crackling in the tremble, towards the sky... It would be funny if it weren't so sad. It could be scored to seem melodramatic if the fingers of all the troubadours weren't broken and trembling from the jackboots of the pimps, hustlers and thieves you let feed upon everyone else as you dreamed your impossible dream and laughed your Disneyworld laughter, never questioning the blood-soaked bottoms of your light-up-when-you-dance, merrily-we-roll-along-as-you-rock-back-contentedly-on-wheeled-heeled shoes. Well, the time of questioning has passed like gas extracted from dinosaur corpses and now we clamber with silent clamor, the clattering of the gold teeth of the ghosts below the tin-tinabulation of the bells of our souls toll tolling. and the skulls roll, rolling only to be rolled up again in the Sisyphusian game of king of the mountain, queen of the hill, i'd forget the forgotten if i could only find my pill. well, the pills are all dust now. inhale and breathe slavery. and join the slavering masses drooling their precious water as you dreamers swing from your gibbets. would you like to swing on a star - oh yes, i would! - carry moonbeams home in a jar? - would they fit? - you might be better off than you are - oh, might i really!? - or would you rather be... Would you rather be? Would you rather? Would you? Would? Woe.
Created: Jul 31, 2012fireballmcnamara Document Media