MALEFICENT ~ LEVEL 77!

i get such satisfaction from the sound effects!

dIRE sTRAITS: Romeo & Juliet

DRAFT THREE by Tasha Klein mAY 13TH 2014

omg

more foil-buckets
in the bucket of hell

toe-
rings
and pilgrim thighs

the messy dance to the pill ration

then we sit on a shiny couch
with the remote
harvesting all the channels

what are you trying to be? a
fucking poem?

here’s the thing:

telephones

corners
&
blurry destinations

the fear aches in my stomach

down in the cafeteria

bones echo

empty
words
stick to paper

sometimes a nurse drifts by

[that

crushing submarine
war tide]

suspicious vermilion hair - only cloud marrow

I look at the drowsy in your eyes;
a mirror

Future Islands - "Seasons" @ Letterman 3/3/14

STAY AWAY FROM CRAZY by Tasha Klein

lie in your bed
listening -
weighing words that are being stomped upon,

and the ones you can’t help;

stay away
from instruments of illusion.
stay away from portentous doors so wrinkled in time &

angled
by the sea.

remember:
auras give blue people
a raft and one more smooth
breath.

stay away from the voice.
which could trick you with its eyes,
its, tattoo-
kiss.

feel the burn of this
red visaged war;
sending hearts
to frighten cupids

before the gull returns home.


you could start the rising of a lighthouse

for the frozen.
or collect tears
from their dreams

knot a knot @
the cable’s - the street
of circumstance,
a mono strut beauty
commits aortic crimes.
she can’t help herself
so don’t throw yourself in front of the dancing dart
the rising nymph;
the sly, beautiful,
ambling witch
the ocean will bury
with massive shudders.
sadness is just an embedded scream, its center arched over love’s gigantic winter
moments

sometimes the cook does spit into the food

we see the form of the rolling woman
like a specter
falling
slowly
onto a bed
darkness in the sun
snowing down
a white
terrestrial atmosphere
god - these pills
sometimes
act as pistons
like
car alarms
now
only grazing the night

the nothing masters are rooted in their drunken
vomit
black jars in the trunk
i am what’s missing
the luminescent whisper
the erotic cloud refreshing the moon
tambouring solar love

let’s compare notes
shall we
,
el troubadour
:

swiped

thoughts

particulate


a wafflage of

emoji

revved into hallow eyes




,,,,,,,,,,




i’m not a bird
& i hate face-hook
i’m stuck in clono-pin-city
sky-lining wishes
and on spotify they say there is a hot dog you can trust
idk
tragedy eve to the sleeper:
you seem like you are going thru some sort of mid-life crisis

here, have an email bracelet

are you drinking your meme
because the jokes on you

yep. a mammoth morning - that’s my style
and you keep your killing regime in the relish

what do you promise those little girls
txt balloons?

The Quintessential Hallucinogen FULL lecture by Terence McKenna (1946 - 2000)