VERBAL DIARRHOEA

the overhauling of information has been a most sumptuous driving force. for rape. the Q stripped from topia was the worst or some may argue. the only. cause for that unbelievable display of racket. it now seems. and i realised after too long that i had gotten it all not too wrong. but very wrong. nonetheless. how the lack of explanations was a medium of fuck sessions to the minds. and the extended communications a means to intend and premeditate ways to keep people to one’s self (huh?). how the time out/away needed was not the existence of already problems between two but a campfire in a ship of more than two relations. how a slap was regretfully (mine too) retracted for another’s grace. and by that same grace spreaded palm wide to touch me in that all too familiar spanish laughter now nothing but a sick stench of musical chairs.

the 3 endearing calls that one night before the sun would rise again in the most foreign land. giving the most absurd of reasons to go hand in hand with the most extreme of actions. i drew a line so clear you could almost smell the pain from the taste choking in your throat. that night. i crashed. and single handedly crushed everything that was a hand in need. for a pair of feet indeed. like a tumour that needed to be surgically removed to be gone. that same self medicated surgery was brewed with darted at and then spat on. but no i did not have the audacity to even go remotely close to wishing for a rainbow aftermath much less for people to stay. still. two steps behind. the way it made not passerbys but “friends?” point their piercing tongues and say “that brat doesnt deserve it” (edited for suitability to the young). with a true blue Jane Doe who like Ursula have revealed a whole new world to this little mermaid. those pair of feet have indeed cost her nothing. but her voice.

no please. dont even try being that voice for her. unless you wanna be enraved into solitude asylum or political suicide.

the people that moved on/away/out. myself included. made choices and ultimately decisions based on the content of the truest (and some hardest) individual emotions. something that alliance and convenient verbal diarrhoea can never comprehend. which you people have completely and concernly distorted and reduced it to a pathetic drama web only to now say how tired you are not for spinning the web but for getting caught in it.

you were hungry. for enlightenment. on why there were so little hands left reaching into your cookie jar and touching your spanish heartstrings. you took one harmless (no matter what was thought/felt/said. nothing was actually DONE. so its harmless what) bite at the most convenient hand. a hand that was also in the equation of perfect weekends and trusty red walls that you remember.

so they said they left. by virtually replacing the face with a foot in the common book. cus they said. they were tired of everything. i wonder who gave them shit too. like the ones actually (made) involved got.

current aural of contrafiction - You And Your Hand by Pink.