"The Anhvu Sessions"

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wehitandrun
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Joined: Tue Feb 17, 2004 10:14 pm
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"The Anhvu Sessions"

Post by wehitandrun »

(thankyou to anyone who pays attention to this)

http://www.purevolume.com/theflamesoftroy

"(fragment for thought)"
(sequence the first)
He hastily stamps his letter shut with the candle wax of depression.
"If he could, he would sing it. But, he sounds like an imitation..."
Immaturity reserved for immaturity.
"... on second thought, you're a joke."
Like a bad taste in my mouth, I'll brush you away with my tool to fix musical hygeine.
It's all in the hook.
'Cause when you hook 'em, then you got 'em, now all you gotta do it fuck 'em, it's all in the hook.

(sequence the third)
When left home alone, he locks all of his doors, and he snorts until he hears rainbows.
After searching his entire life for a punch line, he's accepted the universe is endless.
Immaturity reserved for immaturity.
"... on second thought, you're a joke."
Like a bad taste in my mouth, I'll brush you away with my tool to fix musical hygeine. In his honest voice: "She plays the Organ..." With a smile: "...she plays with mine too."

(sequence the second)
Upon hearing the doorbell he jumps in a seismic fright.
After signing for the letter that he sent himself, he contemplated his station in life.
Immature reserved for immaturity, and without the benefit of hindsight. Like a bad taste in my mouth, I'll brush you away with my tool to fix musical hygeine.
It's all in the hook.
'Cause when you hook 'em, then you got 'em, now all you gotta do it fuck 'em, it's all in the hook.


"the little bells are to wad out the evil"
we're twelve hours from doomsday
but the fast food restaurants will not be phazed
through the apocalypse and eternal flames
capitalism reigns in a stubborn rage


we're ten hours from doomsday
as i pray for the lions we've tamed,
the money of our banks and the criminally insane
who will all have to die in a cage


we're eight hours from doomsday
yet the seven deadly sins are here to stay.
without the humans to blame-
the heavens above will bite the blade


we're six hours from doomsday
and as a form of coming of age
the people question their faith
and rape and rape and rape and rape


we're four hours from doomsday
while sin city bathes in shame
with no sense of time or of the coming plague
and with the hand of a straight of spades
we're witnessing our last form of olympic games


we're two hours from doomsday
and i've been shaving against the grain.
i'm tucked in a panic shaking in pain
under a table holding a microwave
which is making my final entray
(of frozen pizza with pepperoni)
and counting down our final sunday



"What Pure Evil Can Do"
Fritos and I, hour number five, sitting to the beat of a basketball. I feel like I can write with my left hand.
Looking up, for the first time I can finally see the notes of the singing birds.
How can something so small make a noise that could unblister the soles of overworked boys?

I'll die a boy unknown, I'll rest a man revered- with the knowledge of what pure evil can do and how she formed a cemetery from where the bunnies used to play.


"Twenty Thousand Leagues"
<b>[inamorato's journal:]</b>
I'm trapped once again, I've sunk to the bottom of the sea. I've made friends with an oversized shrimp, I've fallen in love with its blue and yellow exterior. We frolic amongst the sunken wreckage and commandeer the fallen ship. While the darkness inhales us, we're swallowed into lust without a genitic worry. And while the upperwold tergiversates, my 'tootsie' nurtures me. I've let "reality" down.

[scene:]
Your new friend has escaped from you, sealife grows from a lifestyle to a curse.

[inamorata(in the night):]
Human kind's greedy and manipulative. They've reclaimed my love, and reschooled him in hate.

[inamorato's journal:]
I tried to tell the world that our love is mutual, but society frowns on our bond. A rendezvous is unlikely when you live twenty thousand leagues apart. Their padded walls are the last thing standing between us and romance, or me and reality.

[counselor:]
You dance with the girl you brought, and allusion carries fumes which are promised when consumed to encourage to entrude through a beautiful person's---

'Hello' is the theme song under rain which carries tunes that hold memories nicknamed "vague" of bonds (which inevitably break) with open ended questions.

[inamorato's journal:]
Poetry to me is conversations between red birds and the ugly duckling.
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