The Psychedelic Necklace

The room was empty. It was an empty room. There were two chairs in it and one table. Everything was normal.

A flash happened and he was there. The sudden man, who came into the sky for wheels and deals but now emerged on the turf, was so negligent of his needs that he cruelly inflicted a gemstone on the pearl and weakened the Askaloth and drove home without a tire.

A man was a teacher from early on and he clothed himself in immense power. Oldie records played while sausages turned and were turned, overturned, overruled, eaten. The pool was dry. Several watchmen hovered above it dripping fat from their cornsticks. Summer was almost gone and supper was cold, like a revenge gone wrong and turned into a blessing. Great icons were dirge and all the clues were cloth and trust was no longer behemoth, but a virtual pointicle on the lineair map of something unimportant on an important desk.

Cold fore sight and oversight, the watchmen now ate their goods and they trusted the sky as one does, mid-term. One isn’t in the habit of overlooking the twilight zone, and yet the dirty talk comes in at pauses, not at the interval. Truman threw the cold cut in the basket and got on the bike and revved it until the tire was gone in the heat. Twenty dollar bills make one twenty dollar bill, said the man who paid with nineteen dollar bills for a thing worth maybe less. This world is built in expenses and there is no taxman who can derive the bottom of it.

Angels hovering as earth drops, sounds swoosh vanish, nothing now is left but the bunny rabbit and his cunt. There is no silence in the cosmos, only idle lumber.

No sky was ever phosphorescent beyond recognition, how is that possible?
What is the logical perimeter of the sky?
These were questions when I was asked.

Now the room grew dark a bit and she came on with nylons and scenery came about where the plot disappears. Revealed was what was empty, and what was full came into the light. Men seek what they shall find, and men weep unless they grind. Men sleep unless they stand and men run with sticks in an iron forest.

Now the hamburger swallowed good will. Great architects lounged in each others buildings.

Ask

why ask?

Sam stated it had rained but it had not. Yet Sam was convinced. He smelled it in his judgment. His smouldering conscience and the prying irons of his mind that turned the coals, normally they reeked of the fishes which he was frying. But now he smelled rain.

Black rain.

Rain in the dust, attached to the demons of the angels, a soil comes together and a life-form stands against the Sun as the king appeared before the dog. Now wheels, centuries later, are driven by machines and go fast. What will be the next conquest? Who will stand in my sun?

Cat-like, not until we are cat-like do we have the right to stand in the sun of the masturbating philosopher.

Bronze odours cool the fermentation of the rage and sicken the byproduct. Nervegas on the agendas of state secretaries and wet sands make puddles for castles it reads on the report. War is home to our species and we are on the outskirts of it when we parade, ice cream in hand, before the figments of our own happiness, figments of the imagination of stars which we imagine to be our own… So spoke the great man from the south and he then sat down and warmed his hands by the fire we had made from our lesser pillage.

Now a spaceship protruded upon destiny’s argument and it was purple full force clad in magnetism and hovering, slightly askew, over the abyss we had just cross and a amplified voice from a alien rang out: hast thou forgotten thy scarf?

And Princess Alzarea went back to the abyss to retrieve her scarf.
“Women” I muttered as my horse snorted nervously.

Clarence had held up many stockbrokers in that same alley but this was the first one he had to pistol-whip in his face. Crack! Nice. Now the guy was drawing his wallet and saying okay okay take it you motherless f… crack! broke his jaw. You were saying? Clarence said and for good measure kneed him in the groins before he politely took the wallet. Scumbags are easy to rob. He kicked him few times and pointed the gun as if he was gonna shoot, making the bastard whimper. Well maybe it was a nice guy who knows. You can tell a lot about a man by his profession but not everything.

Quickly he climbed the ladder to the roof, jumped over the gap and slid down the hole into his girls attic. She wasn’t home yet the bitch, probably lap dancing some similar scumbag to an inner-pants orgasm and this, Clarence realized in very good psychology, was probably why he had robbed this particular homo in the street. Fuck these people, he agitated and he opened the wallet and took out the cash and tossed the plastic in the waste bin. Then he tore up the cash and just in time decided not to toss it out the window like confetti. Instead he ate it. He wondered if it would give him supernatural powers.