Choke
02-05-2003, 05:08 PM
Wrote these:
1.
In the opaque recess of the room a violin cries out.
I can smell the musky rotteness of the furniture,
eaten inside out like decayed corpse's in a coffin.
My cast shadow twists in agony across the floor.
The violinist has her back to me,
And i stand silently behind her.
When the last note finishes echoing through out the house she turns to face me.
Her face is that of a tiger, her violin is a twisted fork.
I run, because to stay in this house of rotteness, this house of a thousand endless corridors, would be madness.
The violinst gets up to close the front door,
and watches me disappear into a sea of grinning trees.
2/
Brillant purple lights criss cross the sweaty throng of people.
Rogue harliquins of energy that color my skin.
Towers of speakers play a continues bass note,
deep and thick as mud.
A drugged out fan stands of the shoulders of friends before us.
His wild hair covering his face.
He raises his arms and looks out among us,
Like a scarecrow in a corn field.
A mist of sweat smelling cannibis smoke engulfs him.
With the sound of the base echoing in my chest
I close my eyes and find overwhelming peace.
1.
In the opaque recess of the room a violin cries out.
I can smell the musky rotteness of the furniture,
eaten inside out like decayed corpse's in a coffin.
My cast shadow twists in agony across the floor.
The violinist has her back to me,
And i stand silently behind her.
When the last note finishes echoing through out the house she turns to face me.
Her face is that of a tiger, her violin is a twisted fork.
I run, because to stay in this house of rotteness, this house of a thousand endless corridors, would be madness.
The violinst gets up to close the front door,
and watches me disappear into a sea of grinning trees.
2/
Brillant purple lights criss cross the sweaty throng of people.
Rogue harliquins of energy that color my skin.
Towers of speakers play a continues bass note,
deep and thick as mud.
A drugged out fan stands of the shoulders of friends before us.
His wild hair covering his face.
He raises his arms and looks out among us,
Like a scarecrow in a corn field.
A mist of sweat smelling cannibis smoke engulfs him.
With the sound of the base echoing in my chest
I close my eyes and find overwhelming peace.