Sitting in The Graveyard
Sitting in the flora, oh so pretty in your ways, we were playing musical chairs- taking breaks for lemonade, the sky looked so idyllic but got terribly irate when you went home. The clouds were disrespectfully spitting and it seems like you’ve angered the sun. I can’t believe you went home without me. There were derelict chicken shops; you had to knock three times and ask for Scott if you wanted some weed. There were seedy knocking shops; the whores stand outside in their pyjamas smoking cigarettes. Why would you pay money for it? And it’s extra if you want more than a rough old massage. It’s a couple of 20’s on top. This is what you put me through!
Sitting in the graveyard, you were digging in the mud, we were playing undertakers- your tears were causing a flood. The grass looked so much greener but was red because my heart was dripping blood. When our worlds collide the devil is always on your side. I’ll just smile; because God and Heaven are on mine. You wore the nicest dress that I had ever seen, your eyes were glowing like some princess in a dream, but I’d rather be lying underneath a tombstone. Your temper weighs a ton. Scattered hearts and airless lungs. There were homeless cats- feral felines fighting rats. There’s a music man- “Put a penny in his hat”. There was rotting fruit, and Diamond White in champagne flutes. I’ve been crying in the night time, I tried to swim but now I’m drowning in red wine, I always knew you’d never come.
I’ve been sitting here for 2 days. Iv’e painted a picture of my brain on the wall. Heaven is waiting for the brave with open arms, Hell is waiting for the strange. Fires are burning for the poor, dig yourself into the ground, I’m still waiting for the bane of my life.
L O’B 14/06/12
Video reblogged from The Onion with 40 notes
Search Crews Continue To Look For Obviously Dead Hikers
Autistic reporter Michael Falk questions the logic of continuing to look for a group of lost hikers who clearly are no longer alive.
Industrial Solvent. Solved
Cement, bones, a body.
Repent. Run away, they won’t find him for time.
You smashed him up boiiiiiiii, buried him in lime.
Shampoo your hair, you’re scared. Wash your face with pears, it’s a soap. Don’t rub edible fruits on your face in hope that it will cleanse your pores. Poor show. Blood? No.
Grab your conscience and tell it that you don’t like crickets, or reggae for that matter.
You may turn into a donkey, but a donkey didn’t kill him. You did. So be a man and mutate.
Iv’e been roaming around with my feet in my boots, in a town called Callus.
Its made me callous towards you. You’re apathetic and you find enjoyment in being cruel. Lets do this. I’ll wail.
So basically, you threw him in the cement mixer?
Don’t lie I saw you.
I heard you, you hear?
Lets advance to a beer.
Maybe I’m a murderer too. Thats why I’m acting so calm.
The Cold (non-insulated) House.
If the ball hits you, you’re gay.
If you don’t spit before you kick the ball, you have aids.
Pick that mother up.
Why did you hide my trainers?
I didn’t, but for accusing me, I’ve put lubricating jelly all over your scaffolding and on the rungs of your step ladder.
Teach me the dance to All Rise by Blue? …………..Please?
Comatose from all the gin, like bees on honey, lying in a puddle of piss behind the balustrade.
Incoherence doesn’t itch but bleeds.
Take me to the grass so I can lay in the sun, take me to the boat so I can steal all the rum. Surrender your vessel.
Electricity fills the air, I can taste the voltage on the wind. A Storm is in the clouds, just like my head is, and maybe my heartstrings.
Doctors spin, kick me in the shin with a hammer, and steal my pin number. Dick. For some reason my trousers fell down.
Soon to be deeper than an igneous frown/rock.
You’re not all that funny, you clown/cock.
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