They say we're mice, God's playthings; we're ants, chaos in the anthill running running away from His Almighty Magnifying Glass. Running, running through His Divinely Ordained Maze, watching whitewashed walls, waiting, waiting. How do we know what makes her come, and what makes her stay?
It's ten thirty, the town is fabulous, sitting in a dusty date of a dusty life, looking for the toilet, looking for the one thing that we think makes us remotely happy. The toilet doors say 'homme' and 'femme' like they're so made for each other, brazen tired faces caught in each other's exaggerated gender, timeless, and I think this is it, this is the torment that defines us. This is what makes April the cruellest. This is the cheese.
They say we're mice, God's playthings; I say you scorched it all. Screw the cheese; eat the walls, eat the mice, eat the maze, eat the white. And when you get to His Infinite Pomposity, eat Him.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
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2 comments:
cheng! its got your brilliant style. hmm let's look for a word to describe it.
its sweeping. it sweeps people of their feet. your writing just kicks in the door to the conference room of my brain, sweeps everything off the table with its arms, and proclaims itself head of the discussion.
yep, something like that.
whoo! a minor suggestion would be to change "Divinely Ordained Maze", add an extra O- word. like "Divinely Ordained Oblivion Maze". so that it spells DOOM nicely XD
lol!!
i see a potential bungie secret-maker in the making
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