- Elementary Funk
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Away from reading any calendars, and blind with fingers feeling the pinch of hitting stamps over blots of ink, the sense of shifting days makes for vacant stares. Glazed and wondering many things similar to each other as they're the same thing over and over again only dressing in different silks and spandex.
Today is as a tomorrow with the yesterday never being. Tomorrow then exists in a state of no history of today. Yesterday is the tomorrow of a today wilting on a future inside the past. Within that past are clouds of retrovision standing still looking ahead at a blackness. Late last night bleeds often into early this morning and partly to blame in the creative destruction of will. One way traffic, no wrong turn except into the face of two hands run over by a third.
Terrigan mists overflow with a billowing sense of hell obscured by means of dilated pupils licking fingertips dabbing fine spots across the pages. Winding down, looking around, the only change is in the faces and the questions rare over the counter top. And even then, no discernable difference in watching the empty wrist and naked wall for time.
Saturday, 2 September 2006 - 18:35
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