more half-waked delirium (freewriting)

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...spirals to symmetry: Children -- done: gathered the dead, observe as the alcohol burns a brain-hole into my stomach. Bathtubs that run wires full of embalming fluids shift upward -- through a ketamine hole ceiling -- saving lavaged desciples through suicide. The tapeworm is the snake... that snake is the shedded trash, knitting a warm blanket for the homeless -- spreading like tarmac over the clouds... There's lint; derelicts merged with same flesh spam a perverted smoke cloud, adding to what's been considered natural; such lint is smokable -- insect, warm blood -- stretched clot of branches in valves stitched to simians.

Knowing, I twitch, looking: a little girl that stands on the precepice, which swings into a turrent. Dropping a hanckerchief full of menstrual she squats... Specks of sand -- motes tearing her purity -- create a syzygy in her abdomen. Craving, feeding on her bodily fat; fluid splotch on every bulge of her spine.

There is an old windmill that spreads cocaine over the sky. THe settlers have learned to use butterfly-nets to scoop the air; anxious and horny -- marching to the graveyard to gather the dead. The dead, always drunk, pile in ecstatic orgies -- yearning -- wet and erect, swarming blackness over the village, whispering sweet nothings, flirting, knocking on doors at night, running away, crawling in mud...

She awoke that night; the wooning wind teasing her window. "What?" she cried, not bothering to open her eyes. Still inside a dream -- the wind didn't reply. "What is it?" rubbing the cold sweat off her breasts she spilled her blankets aside. Scissures were opening all around her, she ignored them, "I need to brush the sleep from my eyes." "So you will," spinning anti-clockwise -- spires drew from her wall corners, meaning to pierce her pupils... "Fuck you... just stop it!"

Clatter lining, basins, spread cunts dripping honey-gold, wrist razors anxious to slice blades: the little girl is confused. Still squatting, a tear drop falling into the crazy sea, off from the sharp precipice. "I still dodn't know half of it," she catches, a miniature thought among hundreds. "This sea is pretty -- but everyone tells me not to stand here, 'its dangerous, honey' they say"

She kicks gravel off the ledge, "If only it wasn't angry at me." Running off, she slows to walk up a hill, from which I observed the ordeal. "Um... Hey what are you doing here all alone. Where are your parents?" I ask her.

"I was just helping to raise them from the dead but they all jumped off the cliff, I called their names yet they forgot me."

"Well sometimes, my parents forgot me. Or they just didnt care about who I was. Well, who I was really. THey wanted a clone thing. Heh, sorry -- you probably, dont know what i'm saying, but eitherway,well. they wanted a picture, something they read in a book, or saw on tv."

"You're funny." she said

"Back to the graveyard?"

"Back to find mommy and daddy!"

I watched her run off, but mostly I watched the sea., breaking against the precipice, Forcing rocks out, which resembled lint in the sunlight, which made the homeless dive to their death clutching lighters and foil -- blind attempts to embrace smoke.

I was walking off -- a stray of crows flew over my shoulder, telling me to sleep. Finally, walking into an opening I layed myself down, letting cathode ray frequencies emit themselves from a rock in front of me... "I'll just watch this," I saw him think, "I'm tired."