zero ground

be my new york ... and i will be your ground zero ... be my body ... and i be your killer virus ... sign my skin ... and i will desert your terror ... be my brand name ... and i will be your ghost rider ... be my aperture and i will close the shutter on this solemn solemn night full of dead stars vibrant cities and silent rocks where sunny-faced midgets gather to discuss the future of the future tense .. and silent rockets reach their rare targets ... later in the night we watch the rainbow of the explosion ... i mean nyc was terrific but this beats it milion times ... then -astonished - we tear the no longer actual map apart and depart to start relationship with new streets.

::: clear to any soul :::

one and the same

oh, help me find the way to resist the night's hallucination. because i would to sit in that kitchen and watch the blue lightnings in the socket. strange sun, indeed. when the man comes in the morning, hide your hand. when the woman comes in the morning, open one eye. she will call you one eyed bandit, but nevermind. actually, there will be no morning. are you sure? yes, maybe, why?

::: space travels in my blood and there ain't nothing i can do about it :::

difficulty using language in a social context

when all the bright days passed away and the owls were burned i turned to myself - my hands were full of things i stole from the dead - opened them widely and cried the name of the night. it was soft as a found skin of a forgotten lover, incomplete as a mystery. another rotation, another planet your fate is more or less obvious in the walls of reason and in this stupid, unnecessary country. so i turned to myself and whispered the name of the night. nothing change, yet the night felt relief.

in a hotel room she sang; he opened his veins. the blue tv screen blinked: drown the elders, kiss the unborn. the transition will rest in you like a forever delayed time that returns to you from eternity. what is left of an onion if you strip it away?

::: no one should be exposed to nothingness for a longer period :::

fuck forever

no more mercy. the sexual organ of society raping thousands of thousands. lonesome violin player in the underpass. life on drugs is life on mars. in awe you watch this extra-terrestrial behaviour. you know it all the time, you are afraid all the time. it's glamorous. the pain of it is glamorous. it undulates. the critical level is yet to be reached. as the hips of society move in machine like manner. but the guilt is not eternal.

::: they have a way to make you pay :::