Dire Runes Congeal

I learned the Saxons fought naked (or was it the Celts? The latter, I believe; the Angles battled in blue dye, as the maker made them, and yes, Angles + Saxons = later, the Celts wore flags, in kilts which were duly suppressed, as were bagpipes, producing a trance-like drone in sustained notes the circular breathing of a didgeridoo, like drums goosestepping young, dumb pylons to battle, the girl above is burning her history in a dilapidated BBQ on a roof as if ceremony realized itself – ceremony its own form of war. Chief See-aah slurred to Seattle laid it down in 1854, the power of the oratory lives on, threatening the ashes of all the dead sea scrolls the pious burn ... what doesn’t fit lingers in spirit form we blink to avoid, no matter what the fearful do, smashing mirrors on purpose. The creeping deserts’ countless cogs have meshed; old scepters fall hammer blows on creation myths simplified to aid digestion; recent news informs us some mad ‘percent of the population ‘suffers’ from forms of synesthesia ... and I laugh. In other earlier times, people were blessed by it!

I suddenly thought of drunk Irenna the beautiful occidental Norwegian high on a barstool, solo-partying the completion of her masters thesis. "Celebrate me!" She happily slurs, followed by a chuckle. "That’s funny. I forget English drinking." Up hill and downhill lose their slope, after a few rounds of the clock; the morning as litmus test/Hello? Does the coffee work? How large is your head[ache]? The news is 24-7 Pope dying did the bastards mention the hundred thousand civilians Xxed in the underhanded war we engineered ... no! Muslim heathen SOBs don’t add up to no pope now do we? Darling boyfriend did you finish the wash? I need clothing for work tomorrow. I’m writing. Oh/sorry/shall I go naked then? I’m certain your boss would appreciate the gesture, might even sincerely consider a career move, to save his marriage over it/very funny/you know it’s true/so what if he likes me/funny now, but what happens when I’m blamed for it?/Well you’re the one who thinks girlfriends are a luxury item. If you can’t afford laundry detergent, let alone a hand full of quarters ... She gets morose when I use dish soap/that stuff’s for pork chop grease!/Yea, works like hell. Lemon fresh! Just meditate on Mr. Bubble, bath tubs with your brother as a kid, but even better than fondling his teeny pecker. Nasty/don’t try to deny you did it. I love the idea of you without clothing, citizens hitting telephone poles with cell phones, dumbfounded/Come on, I’m not that stunning/Hell if! In this manner, I am able to continue writing; but the scorching thought of her giving untold strangers hard-ons is weird. [If I walked naked down streets, people would say it was ... gross? That’s fucked-up.]

Isn’t it odd to have so much power over people?/I never thought about it like that. You menace others with your ability to extract attention from their worlds; another pretty face or tasty bod and they don’t exist—and that’s hard to swallow. It elicits suffering. Imagine life as a nerdy guy who nobody notices. Your psyche is shaped by the thousands of libidos a week who radar your body; and fortuitously these high-voltage jabs of current have not pacified, or electrocuted you. Our poor, invisible, beleaguered nerd is desperate for the false satin pillows and rafts of attention you might curse. His head lies in beans density unable to slip between worlds/countries/dimensions subtle flannel scuffs your face to scroll reality’s next versions, one moment a blanket of planets, the next a show of hands; he approximates the similarities of Hitler and Stalin, you begin with the fact they were both abused by oppressive, impossible-to-please fathers, beaten in latter's case, to within an inch of his life, lay in a coma, say what? Mother deaths devastated him them us, all wanted to become priests. INTRIGUING: Both tried and failed. Both hated their looks, abused women, and felt estranged. Both murdered an immediate family of loved ones, tried to veer towards pacifism, exploring written and visual art. They died deranged paranoid lunatics, murdering indiscriminately, but that's hardly what derivation's about. Both futilely flailed till finding continence [misspelled] in battle n 1: the exercise of self constraint in sexual matters [syn: continency] 2: voluntary control over urinary and fecal discharge ... Weird huh? You know, how 1. and 2. tailgate each other ... yea/almost metaphorical/Freudian!/An odd contemplation side by side. Anyway ...

this dream I had—