1 Paz
Blood
poured from several openings. There is always too much blood and gore. The
physical becomes more and more synthetic over time. The physical expands and
grows into a larger and larger being, encompassing everything. The physical
becomes greater than the sum of its parts. The sights and sounds of all the
accessories put the poor little fool into fits. The lights and sounds spin
around and around his head. And then there are the smells and the feelings that
swallow him up and overwhelm him. There also is the madness of the vagaries of
life that eat away at him little by little, one bite after another come for him
like a school of piranha to eat and devour his little world.
You are
without support, now. You are not resistant to the hegemony of the distinctive
forms of the touchstones of critique. You are cynical and irreverent as you
place your hopes on grimly evolved insipient solutions that no one can swallow.
Alienated from the million eyes, you have become a creative installation of
deviance and bogus values. With your blank bored demeanor, you absorb the
impish and sweltering totality of negative choices of self-loathing and
frittering your life away.
Kicker
was jealous of her happy eyes. Her eyes mocked him with every twinkle. They
taunted him to reach into his bag of severity. He pulled forth from his inner
being all the evil he could muster. He fought back tears as he pulled the rope
from his pocket. Kicker was shaking with the fear of what was about to happen.
He knew that he was a puppet being manipulated by unseen strings. He coiled the
rope around her neck like a snake. The rope was an inanimate thing that wanted
life. The rope wanted Sushi’s life. She lived on this earth long enough and now
she had to give it up to the rope. She had to surrender her life to the snake.
I
wouldn’t say he is stupid, but gullible. He has a smothered flat face with a
constant blank look upon it and his eyes seem almost lifeless. He always had
difficulty making sense out of the larger world. He is constantly stoned on
phenobarbital, diazepam, hydrocodone, and oxycodone. He has been in and out of
a blackout for a good part of three years. The result of this is that his mind
is pretty frayed. He is manning the helm of a sinking ship, a fool with no
hope. It took him a total of nine weeks to organize his thoughts into some sort
of meaningful pattern that would allow him to go on living. He couldn’t change
his mind, once he believed there was no convincing him. He would filter out all
evidence to the contrary. He was a stone cold believer no matter how foolish
the belief.
He
thought he could escape, but he couldn’t. The trap had been set long ago,
before he was ever born. We can see them coming, we always do. The trick is to
pick the right one. There are so many to choose from. The weak and the
spineless are in abundance on this earth.
When I
said that you were backward, quaint, naïve, anachronistic, I watched your eyes
grow wider and wider as if they were juxtapositions of the parts of yourself. I
leaned away from you repulsed by the dismantling of the clearly repressed and
unifying obsessions of your face-stuffed wishful thinking that borders on the
absurdist boundaries of hell wand high-water.
It’s no
fun living an ugly life and to be so lonely. I’m not that bad, just
misunderstood. If only I could explain things better, then maybe they would be
able to see things my way. Kicker moves down lower to feel the psychic waves
that are emanating from her. Each one jolts him as it hits his body and moves
on. He never once thinks if someone else could feel this. You could say he
lacked empathy, especially for his victims.
It was a
beautiful expression of the brutal and extreme. The fools were standing at
attention, composed and smiling, unaware of the evil that will soon befall
them, fresh meat waiting for their rotation on the grill. They stand there
almost unconscious, swelling with the unknown. They are like boxes waiting to
be opened. They want to be inspired, to be filed with something they can’t
understand. They come here out of boredom and just plain curiosity. They think
it must all be some big elaborate joke. A couple of them look around for the TV
cameras. This must be a hoax for some comedy show. Some of them are too tired
to really give a shit. Soon they will be slumped over with their mouths open
and their bodies twitching. Their stare will be affixed with a perpetual look
of puzzlement. Death approaches like the magic of darkness, quick, simple, and
effective. His is plugged in to the darkness, a complex nest of wires sprout
from his body. The electric hum inside his head is the only thing that is
keeping his fragile persona together. Suddenly whirling and stabbing at
anything and everything within his line of sight.
