Visions
dancing shadows like dead fireflies strut around on
the walls and on the ceiling – liquid colors flood the
floor, a disheartening pool of despair to
swim across come hangover – books fly off
bookshelves, whiskey bottles pour their
content in
ice-cold pitchers of margaritas – cats are purring in front of
snarling mongrels – pigeons fly into heated ovens with potatoes
in their beaks – the shadows change their dance, are doing the
Charleston while blaring music seeps out of
the floor – vodka and gin mix up in singular
bottles of potency – blue stars sparkle, red stars explode – the
madness of impotency, the lunacy of normalcy – tequila’s
knocking at
the paper door, cardboard boxes stored in
the spider-populated attic – scalding red paint drips from
the ceiling – the cum of frustrated volcanoes – garrisons are
being evacuated – nukes are detonated inside graphite bunkers – the end
is never
here, always near – it comes, the judgment day! it’s here, repent! – the endless
cry of madmen that know too much – one day, we’ll learn of
the alien overlords – they’ll laugh – the ones I met during
acid trips loathed bourbon but loved vermouth – some goddamn
overlords, ignorant bastards – I down all the bourbon in
the world, I try to, anyway, to appease the soon to
come invaders – they tried to
arrest me for being too sane, I drank them under
hovering tables and gave them enough junk to destroy
their descendants – you’re welcome.
Horror Sleaze Trash 