Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Blue Dub At the Controls
Puddin skin
solution.
Wander in a darker shade
cuttin' no slack jack
luster in moistness.
Spread my legs
aerobic sensualities explored.
The doctor told me about my feet
being arched,
I should take better care of my feet.
They are the only pair you got.
The smell of bleach :
I sit at home doing laundry
word scribbled in a notebook
as the dryer cycle reverberates.
Remnants of blue soap, stings my noise but I cannot resist an urge to sniff.
My sink is a big river, everytime I wash my hands.
A baptism of brown water of my squatty fingers.
I hear cries for whiskey : the pub below crackles with noise on a weekly basis.
Thursday nights are great for insomnia
but the proximity of a temptation
the truth is I like surrounding myself with sin.
I talk in tongues to myself.
Deep in Dundalk preaching harmony and melody
on a rubber band guitar.
I play with my thumbs.
The solos rip up my skin
and the blood is only ketchup, I promise.
Processions often are lead to the door
no smiles are had but liquor is spilled.
Nude bodies contort in towels and togas
like the Romans, but with more culture.
the original "Blue Bodies" can be found here... http://locusruine.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_locusruine_archive.html
Point X
Puddin skin
solution.
Wander in a darker shade
cuttin' no slack jack
luster in moistness.
Spread my legs
aerobic sensualities explored.
The doctor told me about my feet
being arched,
I should take better care of my feet.
They are the only pair you got.
The smell of bleach :
I sit at home doing laundry
word scribbled in a notebook
as the dryer cycle reverberates.
Remnants of blue soap, stings my noise but I cannot resist an urge to sniff.
My sink is a big river, everytime I wash my hands.
A baptism of brown water of my squatty fingers.
I hear cries for whiskey : the pub below crackles with noise on a weekly basis.
Thursday nights are great for insomnia
but the proximity of a temptation
the truth is I like surrounding myself with sin.
I talk in tongues to myself.
Deep in Dundalk preaching harmony and melody
on a rubber band guitar.
I play with my thumbs.
The solos rip up my skin
and the blood is only ketchup, I promise.
Processions often are lead to the door
no smiles are had but liquor is spilled.
Nude bodies contort in towels and togas
like the Romans, but with more culture.
the original "Blue Bodies" can be found here... http://locusruine.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_locusruine_archive.html
Point X
