Distorted Visions

The flutter of eyelids; drooping tired eyelids has an almost sensual movement.I feel spacey in my head light in my spirit.It has to be the Vodka in my lemonade.My eyes are beautiful.They have been called voids of infinite sadness by someone who knew me intimately.The duality of voidand infinity is beautifully demonstrative of the superficial facts of existance.I float in my own world so soft cotton clouds and feel hurt by the spikes of the rugged mountains of grim reality.I like the silence of the treetops as i linger over ya'll.If i were a giant i would have stomped ya'll from life.Death in huge numbers,would cultivate the fodder for the flowers of beauty to bloom.I would love the flowers...i just hate you all.Why don't you die? Why ..

But death is too beautiful.And beauty is not for ya'll.Rot,and rot until the carcass of your moth eaten dead body withers in the blazing sun.I shall feast and rejoice,and bath in the holy aqua of tears.