divine.
as the ashes of the last star drift
i am left again to eternal darkness
this emptiness infinitely more trustworthy
than its lighter counterpart
who’s introvert nature
keeps them cold hearted
surveying my box, i stare into the gloom
i took risks with the last and i’ll do it again
knowingly gave them too much, too much
but the pleasure of my deeds
always come round too soon
nothing is ever final, that is their luck
their past? your history? our future?
concepts i understand but never understood
defined by the seeds that i sow
blessing intelligence, sense and vision
knowingly, i gave them too much, too much
boredom creates its own foe
there is a space between me and the end of all time
with clear eyes closed i travel, when open all i see
options and willing, a skill set divine
emptiness, dead space, possibility
dissection.
they glared in awe, watching a master at work
she wanted to prove that you could actually
dissect a trumpet
her body shaking like a sine wave
sweat pouring, trickling into her eyes
she pierced into the delicious flesh
which brought on a steamy discharge
a glint of lightning
a volcanic eruption of smoke
and a thunderous, cacophonous squeal
GLLLIIIIOooooOOOOOOO!!!
as if blown by louis himself
the deluge of sound reverberated around the room
observers tried to stop
squinting their eyes
once the echo had diminished
she said
pass me that horn
perforated.
its definitely perforated
perf a what?
perf-for-rated
oh, perforated
you have to tone it down
i was hoping you wouldn’t say that
it could end your music career you know
i know, i know, cd sales would plummet
bare it in mind, ok?
sure doc, but when can i take a shit again?
— The Yellow King. You can follow him on Twitter, if he lets you.
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