Formika form toes, gotta get teeth to stop grinding, pure curtain of green stands in the way rotten veggies flying out of my chest and extremities, I hold on to them then let then go but I remained stained by there rottenness. Pure green curtain is that all there is, behind the eyes is just suffering existence comes out of the green suffering black specks covering it all flying at me can even see it sometimes. Detached look in and out of my own eyes, at the play land world, I seem to know all intentions I know all reasons for living then am all so blind, but I see the depression behind the mask of being, what are my intentions what do I look like to. All a swirl of oil.
June 2008
