Sunday 25 January 2009

OBJECT.
yo it's me again,it's me again it's me again, a whiff of something stinging in the right atrium, a tunnel of shifting purple mounds and love juices, the sand winged exorcism of kisses in a dusty rollercoaster made of worms,a row of yellow smiley faces. a big pick up truck filled with objects stacked in the shape of letters. a movement. a physical me, what if i was somebody else,you see?
what if i id ecided to write in an elegant rhyme scheme?
a treasure ship listing across the sea, a weed web writhing with a cleansing visible disease
recurring text that says princess hex's figurative flee. i wont stumble through yr trees.i'll make a house and fill it with sea lions and gargantuant fleas. an aunt that hates ants on a map without a grid. a puzzle. a fussy baby not getting what it wants on a long road trip to alabama,to phillie,to florida, to texarkana. and tangiers.
i saw a funnel cake shop on the side of a mountain shift and spilled gummi bears from the black forest,it suckled the glenwood connector and said boy oh boy,this is me. it's me again it's me again
technically speaking, i like the color of your armpit hairs. i like the flavor of your breath and the smoothness of your voice
i like a piece of dutch apple pie and a sword made of mushrooms and marshmallows. opium drone so friendly it reeks of heavenly floating feet, as the boards underneath us quietly creek
one day later and dolphins squeaking about tomaters, i dove in and became a sharkuhgator, one of my scales made of gold fell into the crater and it kinda sorta just layed there.
one month later. a hairdryer a wild fire and a sack of turnips stuck under a cherry bush. a dream of innocence and a field to walk through, scrawl through, and have movements there together. where words dont matter, just smiles and understanding. space to do yr thing. space to be there when im not there and know that im there as you please
a criminal record delirious squatting , a plastic menu ripped to shreads with indecision. a galloping unicorn with two horns and a buffalo soldier.
arm me with nice words,arm me with a million eggteeth and a conch shell pearly reflective and overdue movies.
saw a 45 degree angle and score my surface,crown me, name me a prince of a large piece of the ocean. let me drift in a warm place like a mother's womb, free from impeding thoughts and letting me just be me
i declare to myself to let me just be me,free of insecurities, wandering through my friends harmonies and wallz of noiz. a bug zapper set to make lady bugs giggle and blow baby bubbles at the caterpillars in the cocoons all white woven and fuzzy vague.
a teacher that writes you up for being late to class and then lets you go anyways. a perception of
some random chunk of writing thats about letting it go and just being chilled out for just a little bit. breathing and free to be, on my back in a swimming pool and a cold coke in my left hand. with crushed ice that only melts when i tell it to.
and oh! a stack of really gratifying pieces of art that i made and cant wait to give to people i like.
because my name is eggtooth and im cooking up ideas in this blurry meditative wordy state.
i think now i will go do one of them!
so tah tah!

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