party_in_celebration_of_nobody_knows_why
paste! Party in celebration of nobody-knows-why


The party is for you, for something you did or caused.
Your mother is holding a basket of knives.
The pillars are traipsed with snakes.
You can be yourself again: imagine a flat red road
that leaves town.
A bright red road.
As you walk away from sight of the party area
the red road humps into a small hill, it splits
the pond
to the left and right like embryos.
Your bare feet stick against the curving surface.
The figure of your innovative hidden side emerges
from your comprehension of the current image, as if a single facet of you
pulls apart from your body in strands. Now if you can just see the face of your
innovative hidden side;
its form, gelatinous and red, rising from the ground and the detail of it
emerging, as in a triangle of currents, from your understanding of the scenario,
so it looks nothing
like your real face. This completion of a visual picture
is fairly similar, yet fairly different to how the red road
dissected the two identical ponds to the left and right.
The ponds in no way are mirrors, for themselves or any onlookers.

Your mother is far away and ashamed.
You left your own party and you feel nothing.

The bright red road is frosting which covers
a dead whale floating in a pond.
You catch up to this image, you take action by willing,
by willing with your most supreme nurture,
by instructing your innovative hidden side’s face to lick up the road with
its tongue shaped like a lawn mower.
Not too long from now, all of the road, all of the frosting
will be licked away. After a while you realize
that the whale is laying in a large area of highly compressed
fingernail clippings,
and not a pond at all. The surface
reminds of sliced white meatloaf or sheetrock, but this
is not your metaphor at all, but the idea of
the entire perimeter of The Dead Whalewatchers Club,
who, as a circle of thousands joined at the hands, all with
strap-on high-powered binoculars, and really forming an arc with such a large
diameter that you can’t see any of them, are not at all
impressed with
the tonguing motion
that you managed to “muster up”, the tonguing motion
that so boringly licked the frosting off a large dead whale.
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three words party_in_celebration_of_nobody_knows_why and_she_didnt_say_to_me spray_paint 060711
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