Spit It Out

I have a few things I would like to say.
None of which are important.
In the slightest.
I intend to die with these dark secrets embedded in my bones.
Enclosed around my soul.

Do not attend my funeral.
Because I won’t be there.

I’m am somebody’s nobody.
When I’m wearing my Big Red Hat.
It’s locked up now. I plan to burn it someday.
Burn it with my Big Green Boot.

You want to deliver a message?
Messengers are shot.
Envelopes are torn.
And birds are eaten.
I would advise you to keep it to yourself.
And to buy a noose,
a golden one of course.
To go out in style.


To all of humanity: Find a purpose

I see people. All without a purpose. Living pointless lives.
Lying facedown in their metaphorical ditch.
I’m the Hobo with the stick. Poking. Poking them all.
I may not be better off. I may not have what they could have had. Should have taken.
But I have a purpose.
My purpose may not be moral. May not be right. But it’s there.
Bound with the straps I created. That I personally secured.

The lunatic with the axe has a purpose. To disassemble.
To nudge things out of their assumed order. Whether or not that may be meat isn't important.

The brainwashed police officer. With the oh so shiny badge. And the big bad firearm.
Has a purpose. To bring justice to the innocent.

The solid foundation of security that I have built has been spat on.
By none other than myself.
I don’t want order. I don’t want boundaries.
I want a well established purpose. Secure? I have nothing to protect it from.
Other than my own ambiguous motives.
Which are well hidden. And vague even to me.


Defiance Of Mortality

Mannequins queued against yellow walls,
Limbs connected to different joints,
Unfilled eye sockets,
Exposed indecently,
Heads decapitated,
Blank expressions on every plastic impersonation,

Forged smiles,
Fake temperaments,
Replicated beings,
An imitation of the authentic,

Poisoned life had been breathed into their plastic confines,
Numbers stamped across their chests,
Identical in every aspect,

Time is irrelevant,
In their waiting,
Their soul’s manifestation,
Is dawning.

A free assortment of gibberish

Are you in need of a recommendation? Yes?
This cat’s autobiography is quite interesting.
Papercut. I unfortunately do not have nine lives.
My fault. All my fault.
Should have filed down the edges.

His innocence. Killed.
Stolen by the Barbie Doll.
Next time, I’ll glue her clothes on.
And Flush Ken down the toilet.
He'd appreciate the gesture.

Did I say that? I will completely disagree to agree.
You would recall me speaking nonsense.
I will eventually sincerely apologise.
On behalf on my mouth, I deliver this message.
Check under your bed covers for broken shards of glass.
A gift from your reflection.

Drink plenty of water.
We have too much of it. No. The toxins are relatively safe.
Minor incontinece is a small price to pay for replenishment.

Sorry, the bathroom is currently occupied.
Good news, the first visit is always free – VAT excluded.

I was told that it is unacceptable to pull faces in a mirror of a public restroom.
The lady near the soap dispenser sent me that telepathic message. How nice.

Is that the time? That was a subtle hint of my boredom.
The sun dial on my wrist is most accurate at sundown.
I had it specially engineered by a Gnome.
It seems fishing didnt pay much.

I should be going. Mary Poppins lent me her umbrella.
She threatened to attack me with it, if i were to lose it.
I've never been so nicely blackmailed.
Air traffic will probably ask for my insurance.
And I'm not comfortable with giving my age.
I think I’ll walk. On all three's.