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two sisters
--------------

"teresa oblided "

like a staggering voice
i climb the mince of the stairs
witch is a trap
of conviction
that lay's by my flesh
in a teardrop surching
the light in it's self
the mind burns
to shadow the name of dissapointment
of a new second shame
that riddles as nightmare's fig
in the truth of change of thought

"image of blues "
the stars the sense this madness
of a goal seperated from the bridge
where the crossfire is emptyed
into a breaktrough of shallowness
that becomes sober
and drinks this night
as though he was painting his vingers
to the wall that had faced anouther storm of delight
i might be concerned about the trees waning
on this earth i feel the insaturation of a cosyness of afar
and i'm resisting the call the you aim through the stars
i'm me lonley as hell on a clouded day
crying over the sultans creamy saying
that i'm nothing but the wail of the moon
parished by a soldiers heart
who waited all his life
to liberate his victoms of sugery hope
and tells the story in a volcano's blush

teresa
why dit you call me the mud of a disclosers
aim on fire
the breathing of anouther steal fencing
disaproval of a quiting slave
that i'm the word changing underneath the sun
by the wiseness dreaming
and now i see this judge of entwined
freedom
from anouther sure as assault
that remixed the neclace
into it's pages
the underground floor is weavering
an in time we will erase the beating
of jelousy
my dream might be a little bit of the edge
of a new religion
but i mist the naket voice
into the solidute of the give free mindclues
that secretly are increased
to the raven heart shock of wolds innocence
i know the dream has become to brake
like glass falls like snow

quaileyedsnowfish wrote:two sisters
--------------

"teresa oblided "

like a staggering voice
i climb the mince of the stairs
witch is a trap
of conviction
that lay's by my flesh
in a teardrop surching
the light in it's self
the mind burns
to shadow the name of dissapointment
of a new second shame
that riddles as nightmare's fig
in the truth of change of thought

"image of blues "
the stars the sense this madness
of a goal seperated from the bridge
where the crossfire is emptyed
into a breaktrough of shallowness
that becomes sober
and drinks this night
as though he was painting his vingers
to the wall that had faced anouther storm of delight
i might be concerned about the trees waning
on this earth i feel the insaturation of a cosyness of afar
and i'm resisting the call the you aim through the stars
i'm me lonley as hell on a clouded day
crying over the sultans creamy saying
that i'm nothing but the wail of the moon
parished by a soldiers heart
who waited all his life
to liberate his victoms of sugery hope
and tells the story in a volcano's blush

teresa
why dit you call me the mud of a disclosers
aim on fire
the breathing of anouther steal fencing
disaproval of a quiting slave
that i'm the word changing underneath the sun
by the wiseness dreaming
and now i see this judge of entwined
freedom
from anouther sure as assault
that remixed the neclace
into it's pages
the underground floor is weavering
an in time we will erase the beating
of jelousy
my dream might be a little bit of the edge
of a new religion
but i mist the naket voice
into the solidute of the give free mindclues
that secretly are increased
to the raven heart shock of wolds innocence
i know the dream has become to brake
like glass falls like snow

.. you know, it's funny.. I was starting to feel as if I miss you.. and yet, what it is I'm missing is hard to decipher. Certainly not clarity, quaileye.

Now, this duet, as it were, seems particularly frustrating, if only because there seems to me something of an urgency here to convey something, and yet, as is usual with you, that you might take such an impulse into the light of comprehensibility seems a betrayal of your loyal upbringing. You know, the pervert priest, 'n all that.

But you know, fish, there does come a time in every fish's life where it might be worth taking the bait. True, you might become the extra sea punch in an otherwise bland meal of leftover fava beans, but.. well, what are you doing with your life that's so goddamn urgent anyway? [I mean, let's face it, fish]

Okay.. so barring your own willingness to help in these rather cloudy, troubled waters.. let me see if I can at least bring something of a directed flashlight to these dismal proceedings..

.. so, first up: "two sisters." That might imply two different names, and yet.. no. [that would be to gratify reason, I guess] And so: only "teresa." That she would be "oblided".. actually, the word reminds me of the kind of street lingo that evolves when certain crucial ingredients are in some manner withheld throughout one's childhood. [think: vocabulary]

[sound effect: none]


"teresa oblided "

like a staggering voice
i climb the mince of the stairs
witch is a trap
of conviction
that lay's by my flesh
in a teardrop surching
the light in it's self
the mind burns
to shadow the name of dissapointment
of a new second shame
that riddles as nightmare's fig
in the truth of change of thought

.. okay, I've underlined some lines here. Now, something about "a new second shame" interests me. But you know, fish.. in this rather cloying, burning, shadowy labyrinth that is your psyche.. well, it does have me wonder whether you even bother with breakfast.

[back to a basic cymbal crash, I think] [just to liven things up]

anyhoo

seeing as you've probably just[censored] [I'm a bit tired myself, you see] and so you no doubt woke up to face the dull light of day without the requisite inspiration even to swallow down a few frosted flakes with some powdered milk, maybe [given you probably don't even have an ice-box].. anyway, short of such nourishment, which might in some manner stave off what seems the bleakest of empty-stomach prognostications.. I guess we're left then to peer into that darker side of you, where no chick lit critic should be expected to have to go.. and yet.. well, I guess I asked for it when I took this gig. Of course, how could I refuse, when you're my only paying subject?

[now, Dear Reader, I do hope you can cut me some slack here, as it's all toward my own miserable memoir titled: Beyond the Valley of the Chick Lit Critic's Last Doll] [with the movie version something on the order of "Russ Meyers meets Disney"] [.. oh, when John Waters isn't enough]

[instead of a sound effect: just a shot of a Pink Flamingo yard ornament]

Now, where were we?

[gosh, that's a switch, I actually managed to spit out that entire question this time] [I guess we now know which of us is eating her morning frosted flakes for a change]

.. okay.. getting back to business here..

.. you know, fish, come to think of it: "that riddles as nightmare's fig" might warrant my flashlight for a moment.. [as it is, it's pretty dark in here]..... let's see, now.......... uuuh.............. hmm..

(actually, never mind).


"image of blues "
the stars the sense this madness
of a goal seperated from the bridge
where the crossfire is emptyed
into a breaktrough of shallowness
that becomes sober
and drinks this night
as though he was painting his vingers
to the wall that had faced anouther storm of delight
i might be concerned about the trees waning
on this earth i feel the insaturation of a cosyness of afar
and i'm resisting the call the you aim through the stars
i'm me lonley as hell on a clouded day
crying over the sultans creamy saying
that i'm nothing but the wail of the moon
parished by a soldiers heart
who waited all his life
to liberate his victoms of sugery hope
and tells the story in a volcano's blush

.. you know, here I feel certain you've captured the sound of Hemingway in that first volcano's blush of morning before he attained consciousness. [pretty sure]

[good work, fish]


teresa
why dit you call me the mud of a disclosers
aim on fire
the breathing of anouther steal fencing
disaproval of a quiting slave
that i'm the word changing underneath the sun
by the wiseness dreaming
and now i see this judge of entwined
freedom
from anouther sure as assault
that remixed the neclace
into it's pages
the underground floor is weavering
an in time we will erase the beating
of jelousy
my dream might be a little bit of the edge
of a new religion
but i mist the naket voice
into the solidute of the give free mindclues
that secretly are increased
to the raven heart shock of wolds innocence
i know the dream has become to brake
like glass falls like snow

Okay, maybe I need to just make some shit up. [what was she doing before, then?.. the earnest reader of this chick lit crit, may well ask] [actually, in which case, why don't you just try this one on for size: shut the fuck up].. [my god.. it's bad enough I have to write this crap to begin with, let alone worry about what you think].. [geez].. [I mean, you're all an exalted lot in your own right, I'm sure].. [my god]..

.. now w--

.. oh, right.. the "pome"..

[sigh]

teresa
why dit you call me the mud of a disclosers
aim on fire

Why dit I call you dat, fish?.. Why dit I??.. I'll tell you why dit I.. Actually, I probably shouldn't. Don't want to disclose any trade secrets, after all.. [in case I myself may need to, uh, switch professions] [I mean, times are tough, fish]

Okay.. [as per above].. teresa seems to have hurt you in her claim that you rat finked on some wanker of a john, no doubt. [and yes, that means you're playing with fire, fish, in the bargain basement of love's desire, as it were].. [hmm.. I think I may have just read your mind as concerns that last comment, fish:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqWkFF-TbMU
FULL SCREEN..


the breathing of anouther steal fencing
disaproval of a quiting slave
that i'm the word changing underneath the sun
by the wiseness dreaming
and now i see this judge of entwined
freedom
from anouther sure as assault
that remixed the neclace
into it's pages

Yes.. folks.. I'm seeing this through to the bitter end. Only, why?.. you may well ask. [those that give a rat's ass, I mean] Actually.. [not having a reasonable response to that].. I'm now thinking, fishie, given this new density of aspiring despair -- especially as per this "remixed" assault using your necklace [that you no doubt rigged to look as if your john were engaged in one of those deadly, self-asphyxiating, auto-erotic scenarios] [which was fairly risky, fishie.. I mean, given he was a judge 'n all].. now, wh-- oh.. so.. all signs seem to be pointing toward what seems to me to be some manner of psychotic break or something, fish..

check see:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iO0niGPR5S4
FULL SCREEN

So, you see, fish.. you're swimming in deeper waters than you might first have imagined..


the underground floor is weavering
an in time we will erase the beating
of jelousy
my dream might be a little bit of the edge
of a new religion
but i mist the naket voice
into the solidute of the give free mindclues
that secretly are increased
to the raven heart shock of wolds innocence
i know the dream has become to brake
like glass falls like snow

.. "like glass falls like snow" indeed..



[to be continued?].. [perchance from fish's favorite psyche ward 7] [ath per thu latht time fithie got inthtituthonalithed].. [who can thay?]

When you make apple pie, how many artichokes do you add?
I assume, of course, that you fry it in a swimming pool.