the art of kEith ::: 'E' on everything

scamper all you diamonds

wretched

femer

dust spark

star dust

fairy tale

mercy to black and white

and the zebra flesh blood goddess i love

and don’t hate cause i pamper in the nuance of the ocean of forgiven

tidal wave tsunami

hitler

violence

goodbye putrid bore

longer i live

still

Like chickens with their heads cut off the blind, the myth makers, the hodge podge, run desperately looking for rotten seeds.

Rotten.

Oh how nobody wants to hear the truth. I strive for physical health at a local gym run by people determined to do the opposite. This group is a sad lot, tortuously addicted to ripping muscles and drinking, quick-fix supplement shakes. One fellow, Nick, smiles with fear, is puffed up with awkward bulk, and has blemishes all about his pale skin. When he speaks he seems like he’s crying. What a spiral he’s on (so it seems) desperate for an end, a maze of physical emptiness