sp3ktr

the daylight is snuffed out like the last gasp of a forgotten smoke, the sky dome burns red orange like the ford pinto i crashed into a tree, splitting my head, and ruining my perfect bi-hawk. The sun shines bright and reveals our true selves, the bright ones shine brighter and the right ones shrivel under the harsh scrutiny of the light.

the vision serpant unwinds around the world tree, joining its mirror image twin like a strand of Dna, the energy moving up and out exploding like fireworks out of the crown. Our dark desires seek to channel and capture that raw energy and feed the fire in our belly, we slurp and suck at the serpants salty kiss but cannot swallow it whole, it leaves trails of milky poison tears in its wake

Day 207 of #submission , the muse is is a cruel mistress, the lightning bolts of inspiration strike me early in the day, the sky still dark from the absence of the sun. I start drawing before im awake and channel the dark gods, my pens drip dark cthulhuian magic as visions of dark lust chain me to the muse, drinking deep from her addictive well.

Day 206 of pool party dreams. As i subjugate subconscious to submerge my desire at the subatomic level, my psilocybin etched mind travels to recurring dreams of fabulous parties. I flit like a fairey chasing the dripping honey dew from dawns moist lips, traveling through halls of hot tubs and shallow pools. I reenact my role i often play in real life, pouring drinks for the parched, getting a lighter so you can smoke a bowl, and delighting you with my sparkling wit and undeniable charm. The dreams subside as dawn breaks and i wake with the salty sweat memories in my mouth. What is your interpretation of my dream?

Day 205 of flights of fantasy. Tripping through time and space, on intergalactic radio waves. Each turn a chance to gnaw away at the empty place you need to fill with whispers and exposition, penetrating deep into that crevice that splits at the seams. Your tounge dances over each noun and adverb with delight, mouthing each word of this un-finished chapter

Stardate 204, the story reads like breadcrumbs left by abandoned childred looking for the toys in the attic, the ghost of Roger waters impales a lil' smokey on a plastic cocktail sword and grins, the palace walls have fallen like the shittest nostradamos quatrain. The smoke clears and our sweet ass saviour emerges from the rubble to take us back in time

Of all the interpretations of our existential purpose that i've heard over the years, One of my favorites is that we are the introspection of a blind God, We are the inward looking eyes of a sentient lonely universe whose greatest wish is to know itself, to see its own stars, see its beauty…” E-2 DOI Agent Simon Griever EDICT ZERO FIS

Day 199 of silver tongue dancing to the beat of sword blades sliding from a well oiled scabbard. Free your self from what you said or should have said, all you have is this moment. Enjoy this and forget the time you were face down in the gutter, your fist wrapped tightly around a bottle, like it was my neck. I free myself from all the times you fixed something i had made to perfection, your passive aggressive way of telling me I failed. Again. Your ghost is no longer my backseat driver and i am steering this black chariot into fame, glory riches. Whose ghost do you need to kick to the curb?

Day 199 of little girl dreams. I remember your pillow talk about how you wished to stroke that long white horn and how you cried when the last unicorn died. As you drifted off to sleep you admitted to being addicted to the musky scent of the great beasts skin, your smile betraying your true desire.

Day one nine eight of the devils grin. I dont believe in the devil, but i do believe some of the things he tells me. Taking an extra lollipop at the bank, cruising through every red light on foothills parkway, and being a dashing knave at every party. This late birthday drawing is a reminder that sometimes you should listen to that small devilish voice and indulge in your animal desires, take that extra long hot shower, luxuriate in the pleasure of your flesh, eat an entire pint of ben&jerrys on the toliet, let the devil in and enjoy this wonder life you inhabit

Day 197 of the walls inside our heads. I wish i could reach out and strip your mind of falsehoods like a sex scene on late night cable, a slow pan of fear, anxiety, regret, and jealousy laying on the floor next to the bed. Let me whisper "when doves cry" softy in your ear while hot, salty tears wash you clean

Day 195 of singing in the rain of swords, Crippled by pure thought, floating two feet above my body, the mercurial curse of a silver tounge and lighting storm mind brings a reign of terror when i get the blues. Im not talking 50 year old white guy with a pony tail blues, im talking burning all of your art you ever made in a Denny's dumpster blues. I know you know what im talking about. The worst part is the shittest ear worm plays in your head like the best scene from american psycho, and you backflip into the darkest part of your mind. Thanks to Black Flag for making the best depression song to get rid of the blues. Whats your anti depression sound track?