Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Argument ad Verecundiam

"A plan incubating in the brain
It hatches and flutters away
Leaving you walking on eggshells
And wondering what’s that smell
?"

A parasang south of nowhere, encompassed by the cold, I am rudely disturbed by the foul alarm clock – A most vile device. Expergefaction. I’m not at my best. Afflicted immediately with aprosexia, akasia, and the usual metaphoric proctalgia.
The chronically obtuse – too dull and thick to realize there is a problem. The exotic, quixotic – filled with vitality and life wandering about immune to the plight. The gloomy and morose; harbingers of doom. Oblivious blondes in gregarious groupings. Over-primped parvenu reeking of a physagogue overdose. Disingenuous smiles and Machiavellian plots.

Somewhere, out there, a village idiot thinks himself The Prince. The end. It justifies the means.

Hey good looking… Can I go nowhere with you? You lead. You seem to know the way well.

Political systems rife with Zabernism. Maculate nations.

Subsannation.

The pinguescent, merdivorous, mattoids. Mannequins following the bell-wether. Go ahead without me. I’ll just lay here and await my stovaine injection… the feeling is returning to my spine. But be quick – The smift is lit and it’s only a matter of time.

4 Comments:

Blogger mcbickle said...

dude, your hiatus has wrecked your brain. nice.

2:50 PM  
Blogger Vexation said...

Mc - I'm not sure I would go about blaming a perfectly innocent hiatus.

12:34 PM  
Blogger mcbickle said...

well, i thought the lobotomy was shouldering too much of the blame till now.

3:52 PM  
Blogger darkmuze said...

This is beyond my comprehension but nevetheless...welcome, back.

11:55 PM  

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