The parrots are seething in the trees across the river. Seething in me and shattering my bones and my blood. I am the moon and all its lying (its zero) shattered on the swirling shattering water.
The bugs I pick from the water just fall apart. Bugs and gecko shit. My nose is bleeding. My wife's red blouse she never lets loose reflected in the swirling waters.
An egret's angelic white-calm on a rock. I want to tear it to bits. Devour it and shit. Turn it black you know.
The water's are swirling. Parrots seething. Bones shattering. My nose bleeding. And the egret's white wholesomeness is an insult. An affront to all this flux. Fuck this flux. And bring me up to God or the the void (the void-god) in calm shining whiteness. (This is why God's the King of Pop)
And please don't ever subject me to Hugh Jackman's ass in x-men wolverine.
But, of course, the milk's sweet and sour.
Flying ants rise up to the light in see-through golds and reds. They are annihilated believing. Believing completely. My nose is bleeding.
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