brightness and nothing more

[Socks]

how something looks so lucid under the influence of drinks. i've been reading amerika and staring at a fruit basket before me on the dining table and the colors, the shapes, the round figures and voluminous curves are at once soothing and crisp, as if a delicious chunk of candy about to eat. but this is not even a real fruit basket. it is an ornamental piece of decoration. the doily underneath it, pearly and white. the faded colors on the wall. the granite wash of the counter-top. the plant next to me. green and flowy. the patterned carpet on the floor. the glass china-wear against the wall. and the marble chair upon which i sit and think. all tell me to go and eat. bit what shall i consume? when there is no time no room and no appetite which i may swoon? swig. and i shall see what happen next. as if time is irrelevant and does not exist.

[The Hand That Fisted Everyone]

you should paint your house.

[Socks]

i want to pain my face.

[Daddy]

Imagine that the taste of the fruit is the instrumentals of your tastebuds.

[Socks]

when i was manic laughing and swinging wild with myself that was a bad idea. now i am sober and that is a terrible thing to say. but i love you anyway.