pith…

Inner voice.
Outward voice.
Always, that choice.

“Ours is the age of soft technologies, the age of genetic and mental software.” – Jean Baudrillard

There must be beauty.
There will always be beauty.
Because beauty must be.
It’s only logical.

This sunny autumn day is so beautiful
it could seem that the trees
are shedding their leaves
solely for thee.

Throwing glass at rock houses.

If you aren’t shivering, wet with chills,
evacuated, wholly, utterly overflowing
with breathless abandon, emptied,
you may begin again.

Beware the upwardly mobile.
You see people.
They see step stool.
#americathenotsobeautiful

I am failure’s auto-pilot.

Song for hummable darkness: Soulsavers – “Unbalanced Pieces” ? http://blip.fm/~fds2x

Hummable darkness preferred.

Melancholy? Pas moi. Colic, maybe. Melon, not so much.

I love fucking poets.

I hate fucken poets.

An archaeologist, in a land of hovercraft pilots, is lonely.

Goy kosher or goy home.

Barely moving. Chain link, restless snake. Traffic.
It’s rain. Water falling from the sky. Not locusts. Yet.

Few lessons matter more than learning to lose.
Once learned, you’ll never want to kill winners again.
You’ll want to torture them. Slowly.

“I sought in doubt a remedy for anxiety. The remedy ended by making common cause with the disease.” – E. M. Cioran

Natch. Adverb. Slang. “Of course; naturally.” A great word to resuscitate. Saves on characters, too. And blissfully ends the -LY tripe.

Plagiarising the dictionary.