take the force of/protection

beauty ...  lies ... indie ... eyes ... fragments, memories that will deliberately deceive you again and again.  you will die on the shore false mirrors that cast daggers behind them, your eyes. coming down on the burning ladder. but the waves will never reach you. the copy is the very essence of crowds waiting for you down there. the orgy of sameness. lies built on lies have burnt all the possible horizons. the deception is stronger than any other thinkable pain. it hurts even in the moment your body collapses. there will be no hands left to dig you a grave. this is the last hour of eternity. your white skin, my tortured heart. the empty bottles of my eyes. a city cold as metal. a city i am going to leave. 

::: and if I made a fool, if I made a fool, if I made a fool on the road, there's always this and if I'm sewn into submission i can still come home to this :::

of grandeur, water and the sad life of william faulkner

water remembers everything but your face. the background is filled with piano noise. the water is a paranoid mirror. you are not reflected by it. invisible, alone. you reach for the gun. but there is none. the terrible smile on your face seems to be there from 1947. your handwriting is undecipherable. but still you vomit words. thousands a day. just to keep away that silence. you have met the devil at the lobby of this hotel yesterday. no, and he did not have your face. you will meet her today. for next four years. you reach for the bottle. it is there. just like any other day. 

:::  underwood universal portable :::

b.l.t.

shot right through with a bolt of blue the day greets you with resistance. lies rain. a life that i can't leave behind nights full of snakes, crooked words, the eyes that make you invisible. don't trust the water. waiting for that final moment the city is so abundant with light. you just humbly watch the skyline of dellusion. the tree is a lazy fish full of inaccessible wisdom. no sense in telling me the mirror is mean, selfish creature. just like the meadow that has seen you growing. don't think you're what you seem the day greets you with notion that yesterday is tomorrow. and the pyre waits for the torch. if i hurt someone else jism dies on your back. the snakes dream in the shadow of the other one. why can't we be ourselves like we were yesterday the evening folds into solitude. your solitude.

::: every day my confusion grows :::