Tuesday, February 3, 2009

The door shuts. Dr. Cherry pie.

"Well, how's my soldier doing?"

There is a slight wind. Is there an open window?

"How long have you been here now... 8 months?"

She is wearing her lab coat, but it is buttoned from the bottom up... except for a few at the top... is her coat long, or her dress short? Her eyes, they.. they are fixed to mine. They are saying something.

"Hmm. That's what I thought."

The wind picks up, and her hair dances slightly across her shoulders. She is walking toward the foot of my bed... hot electricity, sweet Jesus. The wind blows harder, and some papers flutter out the window... a machine budges... tubes swing.

"You must get pretty lonely cooped up in here."

Red lips, dripping sugar. She undoes a few more buttons at the top of her lab coat, and it spreads left and right. She puts her hands on either side of my legs, and lifts one knee to the bed, then the other. A gust of wind pulls through her coat, unbuttoning it all the way down her belly. Her breasts hang like mission bells, her skin glowing a burning gold. More papers are sucked out the window. A machine falls over. She crawls a few more inches.


Tubes and lines and wires flail all around me-- red and green and blue and yellow and white liquids spill into open air, and are pulled into a mist, or weave across the floor, up the wall and out the window. Her hair pushes and pulls and tears. There is a skeleton beneath the wallpaper....

"... I..."

A cabinet pulls from out of the wall, and on it there is a dark head, black and red and brown. A tube whips around my arm and cinches it to a rail. A few wires snake around my leg and thick tubes rise from either side of me and bind me across my stomach, neck, and forehead. Sound it's self is sucked away, and Dr. Chery Pie's face starts to tear, from inside and out, her skin flaking away like ashes. Her gaze is constant, but her eyes have been replaced with dark, empty, holes. The head on the cabinet opens it's mouth, and gives a voice to wind.


The demon Cherry Pie rattles, and slowly drops it's jaw, lined with pointed teeth, and filled with.... blacker blacks, darker darks.. a cave outlined with cherry sauce and glass knives, displacing and placing and uncertain and back to displacement.


It leaps forward, and there is nothing.

The boys are ready. I am ready. I bring my lips together and press my tongue to my teeth. This is what this is for.

here she stalks the grave of washeh, the tail to death her self, we wasted lived in wicked moores, and fell from all twas felt,

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Welcome to the Hotel California
"Eventually... we all die."

There are sirens. Fire. She chuckles and ashes spew from her mouth. She lifts a glowing orange and red sphere in the palm of her hand to a pair of gray pursed lips, bleeding tar in webs around her arm and neck, and dripping from her elbow and chin. She brings her mouth around the fiery monstrosity in her palm, and sucks in, collapsing into a skeleton, skin folding into crevices between bone, but ballooning two withered jet black sacks underneath transparent flesh into swirling pillows of smoke and ash, bigger and bigger and.... she stops and turns her head back toward me. Black dust and gas twirl from out her nostrils as she pokes out her lips, a faint smile, and...

a cloud of smoke like dragon fire erupts and contorts and swallows the room, clawing toward me, a big black hand with searching fingers, reaching.. reaching.. and

Friday, January 16, 2009

Hello banana. Hello apple. I am Orange!

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Cherry pie

"Not bad Roger! If you weren't a nurse, you might have been an excellent barber."
"Thanks doc. I try."
"I know you do"

She is cradling a clip board, and looking at me... looking me over. At this distance, she radiates a certain warmth, a golden blanket and a soft sweetness, a taste on the tip of my tongue. There is something intimately comfortable about her closeness... but as her eyes meet mine, they shine beams of erotic revelry into empty places and fill every nerve in my body with a charge of static, and friction, and silk. I am blinded, yet she smiles.

thupthupthupthupthupthupand is gone.

Somewhere in a place far far away, someone says "Yikes... better change this out."

Sunday, December 7, 2008

That sound again. thup thup thup thup thup
The door is partially open. The sound is steady, but is getting louder and louder... No. Closer and closer.
thup thup thup with a screech on each syllable, like the blood scream of a hawk as it descends on it's prey-- but is stopped, and started again, over and over, the prey paralyzed, over and over, as its pupils move skyward, contracting and absorbing feather and claw and scream. thup thup thup thup thup thup thup

Through the crack, four wheels and two green scrub-legs pass by and fade further and further into some place opposite from which they originated.

Exhale... exhale? Why can't I exhale? If I can't exhale... how.. can.. I ..hyper-venti...

The room has changed, and I am still suffoca.."They got one on us!" *beep beep beep beep THUP THUP THUP THUP THUP THUP static
Everything and everyone is moving... shaking.. displacing and placing and uncertain and back to displacement bending metal over plastic over smoke over flesh opening pores and liquid and fiery seizure and turning and falling and there are pieces leaving and replaced by bigger pieces that are coming, fast.

There is a head on the counter, and even through the smoke, and the dark, I see white eyes, and red blood, and while all the world has fallen to silent reverie, i can still hear it whisper.

w...w..... washeh

Sunday, November 30, 2008

murder history

I... I must be looking at a picture. I see two feet. I see two legs. I see.. tubes... wires.. finger tips

Today on Soldier of Time, we explore Ancient Civilization- ruins, books, transparent artifacts on transparent actors - Ancient Wars - fire, smoke, red marble and fat men with woven crowns - And Ancient WARRIORS - sword on sword, blood on blood, corpse on corpse and the smoke is still burning, people still screaming

"Hey... you OK?"

He looks at me as if he is both empathetic and revolted by my apparent weakness at the same time. He must be aware of the slightly condescending ring in his voice, because he looks at the corpses too, as if he expects to see what I see... what he used to see. Nothing changes, and he is impatient.

"You better get your shit together, or you're gonna end up just like...", he isn't sure, "...That. Seriously man. You know what they say. You can check out...

...they used brutal tactics, forcing the Spanish forces to retreat to the river, cutting off their exit, and surrounding them on either side.............. Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow CAT FOOD! Meeeeeow!....Has this ever happened to you? Try UltraClean!