FOLLOWING: “Societal Whoring #1”
Just look at that, that god forsaken, piece of dry shit, wormed apple-ish of a spectral face. Yes yes, yeah please fantasize, the face that even mutant hyenas dare not bite off, one that Edgar’s crippled bird dare not blow tumbling noses to which once loosely connected. Truthfully speaking, not liefully exaggerating: a slim and numbing white pan in the processes of precipitating. Just look at it, imagine it, the scene, man, a cheerless king of an anonymous direction with a pan for a head. Just like medieval times and back. Goddamn, how (in the hell) (the) dark and the old Gods are so just to our ancestors, especially for the whoring business, considering bishops’ hobbies and all (?) (.) Back in the day of its high life, there were lines of Tokyo’s monkey-like immigrants with immense assholeries waiting holding dicks outside wherever the hell it was, readying to be penetrating with 4 inches of might, shaving their fascist beards for newer trends originated from Brad’s nonexistent rumours on the stands surrounded with praises from another generation of idiots, just by looking at that said sad fucking pan they saw the horribles attached to owners’ fried heads. Nihilism crap. Communisms and stuffs, socialisms and shits, real intellectual and poetic. The pan initially was a well-bought, well-chosen kind of thing you rarely see in pimps’ Sex n’ Beyond, unceasingly cleansed and on par with playboys’ bunnies’ miry mirrors, in my humblest opinion. Yeah just ‘miry’ to me at the utmost respects, but still it was the level most peeps with sausages and salivas for breakfasts all dream of, spurting liquid moans for solid grounds of realities before their virus-free irises, ones that never really come to terms with their boners. Came, I mean. Anyway the winds are blowing wildly as I type, as we speak, I’m cold as fuck but those senseless and unpredictable dudes are smashing heads to heads onto (different kinds of) masturbators’ shredded, bushy bunchas furs, pushing em’ backs and forths to the tunes of libidinous snake owners… shrunk. Somewhere else in the sandman’s land of the endless. So yeah that’s still a fortunate thing, to be able to witness something interesting in this boring journey of backstories… Windows shut for excuses of lonelinesses are opened wide to obscene scenes of the licks, doors opened in the waits of runaway daddies are ripped out forever and replaced by wardrobes of cowards rebels’ masks with smiles, shits and gigs, tempting in slangs of their odd global services. It was announced that “the temperatures would be dropping even more rapid in a few hours” by frowning ladies and gents in suits with gigantic doubts flying around, ones that even sea navigators would be hesitant to imprison among their droughty thoughts of drowning. The announcement was and is indeed quite right. It can’t help much that compasses were and are being broken like promises spitted in every directioned love story (decent metaphorical pun yeah?). Heh, my point is, in this coldness, hardly anything that moves can survive. Statistically and irrelevantly relevant, with every five dogs there was and is one dead due to the cold. I read it in tomorrow’s newspapers, oh yes I do. There’s an interesting and kinda ridiculous article I believe, talking about and discussing the connections between those dead dogs and vegetinians… vegetarians. Basically the writer mentioned and mentions a lot of things, made and makes them carefully analyzed and shit, to the point that it seemed and seems fair for vegetarians to die just as well as the luckless creatures, when there was and is no one dying that and this night and early morning. I don’t know how the guy did and does that, but man, this is the fucking civillization, we don’t care nothing and want everything except the urges to not be led astray.
Present, hell and the returns. I’m not sure what that thing’s got and holding on to, and if there’s even anything that’s even near the definition of “regrettable” about its thrusted life. Something else;You folks of first worlds obviously have heard of the many tales from time to time about mountain climbers, rock climbers, how they again and again join their shits and braveries and make out something cool or cool and sad to be told by some thousands. Maybe some dozens. Well I mean, they are still fucking no brainers, all crossing hearts to families and hoping to die in the highnesses of most exquisite ecstasies, blah here and blah there… but at the very least the outcomes always contain coolnesses. Always. No wonder why the business of dying are getting hotter and earlier and faster each day, in contrary with the concepts and situations of our very own lives and our dies. Deep shit, but I guess I won’t even understand a damn reading that back. Oh well. My point is, this thing, this creature, it’s just a societal whore. An error among errors. Red streets, red lights and white waters, green papers and cut, nothing more. Just a job not much different than the ones everyday clones with ties walking in constant barrels… parallels… are having. Of course with the exception of much talked pleasures, sometimes in sometimes out, but shit gets real boring to the extremest over the hours, by the time they come to yet another great realization, the repetitions of their sound bundles. Red waters, white streets and white lines of fuzzes, cut and nothing more. Just a mere whore of this abandoned and ironically loathed society, both in literal and figurative meanings. Not to mention she’s fucking ugly too, right now, did I ever tell you that? Oh yeah I did you pieces of ignorant shits, read the first one (if you can make it here through the bullshits). She’s the king of it all, the sum, the conveyance of our greatest slums’ filths with all of their glorious attributes, stinky, frightened, avoided and tiring in the waits of modernized exposals, recyclings thingies. She read in splinters of some newspapers once, oh yes she can do that, and oh yes they are crap-stained. Anyway, she read that our goverments, well at least, MY government, is enacting a law, a law that would change us all, the way we live and the way we do things. Of course with these ignorances under the funds of (not under-funded) global surveillances (you know) spreaded by our shaky acting employers’ mouths to our rushing and pathetic ears, the entertained us, the people and me who are hugging em’ and the TVs dear, we hardly ever have the time and enough money to…, or should I say “enough money to have time”… to fucking read authentic craps. As so, it’s understandable when that kind of news is at the entrances of our great diarheas (through the aisles of mixes), ones having Bibles’ Noahs beg immortal dreamers in contemporary novels for real floods of extraordinary sexes instead. Damn me if these are not some interesting times to live, this goddamn tacky and hyper-connecting, sheltering world. Back to the thing I was telling you, I too ain’t know any exact shit about the things she’d acknowledged with her stillborn learnings, reading and smelling those fragrances. What I know is that she’s still around, anyone to be in her place right now (not inside her) would die in minutes. She’s been dying for hours, and that’s counted as a terrific Guiness’ wet dream. Good grief! Even I would be adoring her if she wasn’t such an ugly and pathetic pack of bones! To hell to appearances, goddamnit the Gods of Unjusts… if dude’s a real thing like any other dudes. Anyway the junior, her face’s as was said - a fucking resilient pan resulted from the many years of contacting slaps and bondagers’ asses - now got stuck in the process of rottening, frozen, raw, thanks to the fucking weather guys. It looks almost rigid but not enough to be shiny, I think… At least not with those flaccid movements of some kinda tears trains heading down to pools of mascaras’ leftovers, darkened and mixed as third wheels tween her and the… reaper. Too corny and lame, or shall I explain? It’s DEATH, motherfucker. She’s hang by the hair alright, and it’s a good thing. It’s a good thing to feel that, feel something, and spit liquid.
(to be continued)
- The Conquistador