Thursday, October 23, 2008
QUESTION SIX
When I got back from outer space, she was stuffing my clothes into orange bin liners and hurling them to the pavement below, they looked like corpulent, decapitated Western hostages in freefall. A Diamanda Galas LP frisbee'd through the open window and made a large SKRAK sound as it exploded on the pavement. Diamanda's bloody face now nursed a fractured jawline of snapped vinyl. I was going to try to save it, but fuck it, I knew I'd never sit through her hoodoo screeching again anyway. And then I spotted him, inside the bedroom, face pushed up to the glass....him, orchestrating this chaos and heartache, his face twisted into an evil sneer as she raged against my good name and slandered me with abuse...her filthy pet mandrill, the one she really should have been firing through the bloody window, the shit-stirring bastard!
And as I looked up skywards, a bird spat in my eye. And I never really loved you 'til the day I saw you cry. A bra stuffed tight with anger, and a mandrill and a knife. This Solar System cowboy, dispossessed and dumped by wife.
And as Lee Marvin's lonesome song wound to an end, I asked myself - Why does it always end this way?
And as I looked up skywards, a bird spat in my eye. And I never really loved you 'til the day I saw you cry. A bra stuffed tight with anger, and a mandrill and a knife. This Solar System cowboy, dispossessed and dumped by wife.
And as Lee Marvin's lonesome song wound to an end, I asked myself - Why does it always end this way?
# posted by Martin : 4:10 PM <%=MakeComment("3719199338358136996","beyond the implode:QUESTION SIX","http://seagullscreamingkillherkillher.blogspot.com/2008/10/question-six.html")%>
