Effervescing Elephant
It is 6:30, and my brain is gravy.
We sat around waiting for the train to arrive. The too much fun club, staring at a blue LED light on a remote controlled monster. The company consisted of strangers, faux-vegans, robots, artists, and princes. The blue light became a lurid celestial guide to the acceleration we were all going to be sentenced to -for 16 unmerciful hours straight. I tremble a bit; my eyes begin to dilate with the cool breeze of Simon and Garfunkle’s America. The far away laughter whelp, threatens me with promises of a disastrous trip. The robot glares they were giving me struck an ocean of fear with a stormy hand. I capsize. I grind my boney cubes, until they taste like hot-metal "sick." My group of princes all wander around the fortress, diving into the esoteric. I see an opiate dragon lift from the sea-tile, and he dances for me, luring me into an inky fingerprint. The black was from another sea resident; the squid. The Squid that jumped from the paper, and sank into my skin; Black, Black, it was all black. An oil slick on the tips of my bones, runs, cries, and faces death and rebirth. We all smile. Light up a cigarette, and taste a bar, a bar made by a machine. What dream was I in?
I stand in the rain.
I hid under a table.
I escaped to the garage.
Trevor ensues, another prince in my kingdom; my weariness dissolves. My kingdom is on fire, glowing red. His eyes are white, just another prince, in my Electric-Lady land.
The electrolytes make love to my taste buds. The faux-vegan and the artist pull together as a team.
Us 5, we rode the gravy train.
The artist, my prince, we share some words, as the carpet moves, and creeps, and crawls. The wallpaper cries; flowers run down from the ceiling staining us all, making everything pink, purple, green, yellow. We are all the children of a flower. Trevor’s lips move, but I cannot hear what he is saying. My lips move, but it all seems to float down the drain -an astral drain.
More debutantes arrive: a jarhead, a mystic blue-eyed jailbait waif, and a skeleton.
My eyes are useless. I am accelerating deeper into her starry-eyed coma. I make a wave with a butane cigarette torch, scaring away the bugs that are now crawling into my flesh. My brain calls to me, “Why not take a ride?” I crawl across the murky earth in my woolen sock-fed shoes. I slap the door handle as it reaches out to grab my hand, and I tear open the door and swan dive on the back seat.
We drive.
I see a marionette fighting bees; he jerks around on the street, and lets out a shrill-yell. I watch him collapse into a bush. Fear tickles my spine, and I grow engorged with fear. Inflamed, I let out a shriek. Can they hear my mind, too? Is it screaming loud enough for the world to hear? Am I talking aloud? I smell a burnt sock. Was it Luke? Did the artist take a dive into a bush?
I killed him. I fed him pregnant paper, and he snapped. I am a murderer. Help, I need to get out. Jump out, Eric.
NO.
I jerk around in the backseat now; my spine is stiff, and I cannot find peace. What do I do? Forget Luke. Deny it all.
Junky, Junky, Junky, Junky, Junky.
I tremble and shake.
So watch the rain.
The tears of angels whip the windshield; two black bats beat the evidence away.
Limp arms make their acquaintance.
Goodnight Skellyton.
Take the co-pilot’s position. Do it. Buckle up, wait until you see Luke’s face, and make a run for it.
What is that noise?
“Hello.”
“Who is this?”
“Where’s Luke.”
“Alright.”
“Yeah.”
White heat engulfs the motor-beast.
I see lazy animals fighting the elements.
Run.
Run for your life.
“Are you a Pepper, too?”
“HowamInotmyselfmyselfmyselfmyself.”
I follow the North Star, and make my way home. My chair has open arms, and I nestle inside its bosom.
“Mother is mad,” cried the radio.
What do I do?
Newspaper Taxis bring both rocking horse people, and their marshmallow pies.
Take me away.
We sat around waiting for the train to arrive. The too much fun club, staring at a blue LED light on a remote controlled monster. The company consisted of strangers, faux-vegans, robots, artists, and princes. The blue light became a lurid celestial guide to the acceleration we were all going to be sentenced to -for 16 unmerciful hours straight. I tremble a bit; my eyes begin to dilate with the cool breeze of Simon and Garfunkle’s America. The far away laughter whelp, threatens me with promises of a disastrous trip. The robot glares they were giving me struck an ocean of fear with a stormy hand. I capsize. I grind my boney cubes, until they taste like hot-metal "sick." My group of princes all wander around the fortress, diving into the esoteric. I see an opiate dragon lift from the sea-tile, and he dances for me, luring me into an inky fingerprint. The black was from another sea resident; the squid. The Squid that jumped from the paper, and sank into my skin; Black, Black, it was all black. An oil slick on the tips of my bones, runs, cries, and faces death and rebirth. We all smile. Light up a cigarette, and taste a bar, a bar made by a machine. What dream was I in?
I stand in the rain.
I hid under a table.
I escaped to the garage.
Trevor ensues, another prince in my kingdom; my weariness dissolves. My kingdom is on fire, glowing red. His eyes are white, just another prince, in my Electric-Lady land.
The electrolytes make love to my taste buds. The faux-vegan and the artist pull together as a team.
Us 5, we rode the gravy train.
The artist, my prince, we share some words, as the carpet moves, and creeps, and crawls. The wallpaper cries; flowers run down from the ceiling staining us all, making everything pink, purple, green, yellow. We are all the children of a flower. Trevor’s lips move, but I cannot hear what he is saying. My lips move, but it all seems to float down the drain -an astral drain.
More debutantes arrive: a jarhead, a mystic blue-eyed jailbait waif, and a skeleton.
My eyes are useless. I am accelerating deeper into her starry-eyed coma. I make a wave with a butane cigarette torch, scaring away the bugs that are now crawling into my flesh. My brain calls to me, “Why not take a ride?” I crawl across the murky earth in my woolen sock-fed shoes. I slap the door handle as it reaches out to grab my hand, and I tear open the door and swan dive on the back seat.
We drive.
I see a marionette fighting bees; he jerks around on the street, and lets out a shrill-yell. I watch him collapse into a bush. Fear tickles my spine, and I grow engorged with fear. Inflamed, I let out a shriek. Can they hear my mind, too? Is it screaming loud enough for the world to hear? Am I talking aloud? I smell a burnt sock. Was it Luke? Did the artist take a dive into a bush?
I killed him. I fed him pregnant paper, and he snapped. I am a murderer. Help, I need to get out. Jump out, Eric.
NO.
I jerk around in the backseat now; my spine is stiff, and I cannot find peace. What do I do? Forget Luke. Deny it all.
Junky, Junky, Junky, Junky, Junky.
I tremble and shake.
So watch the rain.
The tears of angels whip the windshield; two black bats beat the evidence away.
Limp arms make their acquaintance.
Goodnight Skellyton.
Take the co-pilot’s position. Do it. Buckle up, wait until you see Luke’s face, and make a run for it.
What is that noise?
“Hello.”
“Who is this?”
“Where’s Luke.”
“Alright.”
“Yeah.”
White heat engulfs the motor-beast.
I see lazy animals fighting the elements.
Run.
Run for your life.
“Are you a Pepper, too?”
“HowamInotmyselfmyselfmyselfmyself.”
I follow the North Star, and make my way home. My chair has open arms, and I nestle inside its bosom.
“Mother is mad,” cried the radio.
What do I do?
Newspaper Taxis bring both rocking horse people, and their marshmallow pies.
Take me away.
posted by Opel at 8:56 PM
1 comments
