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Kaosdevice's blog: "Machine Parts"

created on 12/06/2006  |  http://fubar.com/machine-parts/b31901

status

Still living.

yeah, yeah, yeah

Take any specific time. Categorize it. Wow that was something huh? That big snowfall, that chipped tooth. You get where I am coming from, I know you do. Yes, this is historic in that a black dude is controlling America, ok. Enough with the goddamn tears. Save it for the female inuit president. Let's just reducto all absurdio out of the ass of this. The presumed villains slink back to their lairs (and one zumed-back to her ice cave moron ice witch!). Can we all now just calm the hell back down and get back to the job of making America work? Obama is neither the Jesus or Anti-Christ or blah-blah-blah. He is just another leader with a mandate. Our mandates should be taking care of our specific worlds, taking care of those we love and getting on with life.

still have a pulse

I am still among the breathing set for those that are curious. I got involved with a fairly intense work project that ate me alive for months on end. But I live and breath and am ready to cover your back when we make a break for it after the zombie outbreak.

tell me

tell me I am in love, tell me this is what it feels like, miss you when gone, want you gone when you are here too long. It feels like romantic schizophrenia. I love having someone in my life, as long as it is always, always on my own terms. madness, I know, but my own.

question? Number one?

How did I forget the taste of you? Does it matter now? That we are done? The smell of you, the want for you this is unfair, that this is all gone. Yet, frightening my ability, to cut that world, yours, off from mine, and yours to, remind me. hellish, with desire for, and to remind me of all of the empty. Odd that alchemy, you have.

Endtimes Cabaret

Another sad song at end times cabaret, Listen in, the singer is all blue words, the band down beat but not a missed note my friends, not a one. The bartender is all cheap drinks, for your sad words, and last call is hours away. Have a seat, it is all on me, light a smoke in the dim atmosphere, it's not sorrow, it just seems like that in here, listen to the song. Sure things don't add up, sure things go away, they hurt - they heal, grab some of the air, let it go, we are all wounded but not for long, patrons come and go, much like you. The owners stay and stay.

Wake, not funeral

She asked me for a few answers, I said maybe after awhile, not that I'd have any then, we'd wake up next to each other, with nothing to say. Get up awkwardly dress, wonder what led to all this, quiet distress, as we thought about polite words to make leaving easy. All so philosophical, conversational, the drunken night before, now twisted and clumsy words. Formerly animated, now cadaverous, honestly, I am the same person I was last night, just not eloquent with the dawn, drained empty by what went on, give me some hours, and he will return. Or stay, see who I am now and I will see you.

The one thing

You want to know a secret? It isn't pain that makes you live, it is joy. The moment, the second, joy. When you open your eyes to it, when you remember it, joy makes you real, makes you whole. Don't forget it, or lose it, find it in every corner, room, slice of your life. Never let go of it.

quiet times

Look, it's not a secret, I try to hide the fact, I want nobody, it doesn't make me strange, just alone. Nothing wrong with that, not empty, just empty of everyone else, not needing to be filled, just empty and and quiet, in these times. Not a word, not a touch needed, still.

Zombies and Fallen Leaves

It was fall, when they came after us, we had hid up in the tree lines, but they were zombies after all, hunger and a feasting deadline. Suppose we couldn't hide, no matter what we did, firearm noise and small town raids, our strategy aside, we lay low, the team did what I said. We had our guns, they came out of the forest, I shot the slow ones, I saved the last round for myself.
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