snivelinggoatgod

Red My dreams have been bathed in your red. A Vermillion Empress lies blooming before me with a kalidoscoping halo of blurred exaltation and cinnamon treasures. Your red pulses and rivulets across the spectrum with graceful combustion. In this red, a drove of Chinese dragons snap jaw grapple each other fruitlessly hoping for the smallest lock or the lightest kiss of your sanguine glimmer. Your red is a confection-dusted butterfly floating on the tip of God's finger at the most temperate moment of creation. Your red is the magic that isolates the vastness of possibilities. Your red cold roasts my inspiration. Your red is the hue that engulfs

I watched them with great interest. There were token gestures made in the hopes of cheap intimacy. You could see the fumbling efforts to achieve some kind of  "closeness" and "inner knowledge" between them. I found a sick humor in believing with a certain amount of conviction that they could, I should say eventually would terrorize and strip apart one another because of the position they held in each others life. Just more relevant words reduced to so much dirty laundry.***** ******** ************ The Sniveling Goat There is No Reason to Cry http://www.snivelinggoat.com ************ ******** *****

There was a girl once, with a painted face. Not painted on, painted. Like a renaissance saint. Joan of Arc at the stake. Softly martyred. Her skin was smooth and relaxing like a narcotic sleep, glowing specter pale. Only her eye lids moved. Slowly in lazy dreaming motions. Opening and closing barley detectable over cavern water eyes. Eyes sad and unreadable, eyes that see differently. She knows something. She never talked. She never smiled. She never looked my way. I wished she would, and I'm glad she didn't.***** ******** ************ The Sniveling Goat There is No Reason to Cry http://www.snivelinggoat.com ************ ******** ****